
by j».E.Bitd» e 




l^t^ 




S ERMO N S 



BY 



GEORGE W. PERKINS 



-W ITU .A. Is/L IE 3VE O I R, 



**' 



NEW-YORK: 

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH, 683 BROADWAY, 

1859. 










Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, 

By CHAMPION BISSELL, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 
Southern District of New- York. 



1N aXCBAtfflfll 
Oraw Tiled. 8fcfiU 



JOHN A. GRAY, 

Printer and Stercotyper, 
16 and 18 Jacob St., Fire-Proof Buildings. 



CD 

X2 



PREFACE 



00 



Mr. Perkins published a good deal, first and last, in the form of 
pamphlets, reports, articles in periodicals, sermons, etc. ; but none of 
them are republished in this volume, with the exception of the sermon 
on " Popular Fallacies." 

The close of his sermons was usually extemporaneous, and hence as 
written, they sometimes appear incomplete. But, as he left them, they 
are commended to his friends and the people of his three parishes, for 
whom chiefly they have been prepared. 

A book thus selected from papers never designed for publication, 
will, whatever its faults, show something of the man; at least to those 
who knew him. 

The Sermons have been selected and the Memoir edited bv different 



hands. 



LO 



C ONTENTS. 



Skrmox Paob 

I. — "Voice op the Dead, 3 

II. — Gospel Preaching, 30 

III. — Popular Fallacies examined, ...... 45 

IV. — Long Suffering op God, 59 

V. — Bblieting a Lie, 73 

VI. — Self-Control, . . .87 

VII. — Means of Grace, 101 

VIII. — Shadrach and his Friends, lit 

IX.— The Family, 131 

X— The Family, 146 

XL— Hope, * 160 

XII. — A True Reyiyal, 113 

XIII. — Hezekiah — the Man of Prayer, 193 

XIV. — Hezekiah — Efficacy of Prayer, 210 

XV. — Hezekiah— the Eight Kind of Prayer, . . . 223 

XVI.— Trinity, 236 

XVII. — Personal Character of Christ, 250 

XVIII. — Personal Character of Christ, (Conclusion.) . . . 263 

XIX.— The Higher State, 275 

XX; — Harmony of the Diyine and Human Will, . . .288 

XXI. — Assurance of Faith, 302 

XXII.— The Peace of God, .... ... 311 



MEMOIR. 



George William Perkins was born in Hartford, Ct., 
February 22d, 180tk He was the youngest of seven child- 
ren ; four sisters and two brothers still survive him. 

His father was Enoch Perkins, a lawyer of Hartford, a 
man of sound judgment and extensive reading, and univer- 
sally respected for his integrity and strength of principle. 

His mother was Anna Pitkin, a daughter of Eev. Timo- 
thy Pitkin, of Farmington, Ct. 

Both were descended from a line of Puritan ancestors, 
and through a long life most worthily represented the 
stock from whence they sprung. His paternal grandmo- 
ther dated her religious character from the preaching of 
Whitefield, during one of his visits to this country, and to 
extreme old age was noted for her consistency and faithful 
discharge of duty. 

The great grandfather of Mr. Perkins, on the mother's 
side, was the Rev. Thomas Clap, for twenty-seven years 
President of Yale College ; many of whose strong points 
of character this descendant of his seemed to inherit. 

From his earliest childhood he was remarkable for untir- 
ing activity, great fixedness of purpose and power of ac- 
complishing his plans, and whether intent on work or play, 
entered into it with his whole heart. 

2 



10 MEMOIR. 

In 1820, when sixteen years of age, be entered Yale 
College. Here, in his first term, he injured his eyes by 
overtasking them, and through his whole course, and many 
years after, was greatly hindered in his studies, and suf- 
fered much from them. 

To most young men, this would have been a complete 
discouragement, and turned them to different pursuits ; but 
it only invigorated young Perkins to use more earnestly 
the opportunities that remained to him. A friend remem- 
bers hearing him say at this time that his hours of " hard- 
est study " were when he sat during the evening in his 
room alone and in the dark, and fixed his mind on some 
one subject, holding it there, and reining in his roving 
thoughts as one would manage an unruly and fiery horse. 
This was no ordinary self-control for a boy of sixteen. 

During his junior year in College he joined the College 
Church, then under the ministry of the Rev. Eleazar T. 
Fitch. 

He took a high rank as a scholar, was among the five or 
six best, and when he graduated, received the appointment 
of an oration. 

After taking his degree in Sept. 1824, not having fully 
decided on his future profession, he went to Cambridge, 
Mass., to take charge of a school. Among his pupils was 
Margaret Fuller Ossoli. 

Oct. 4th, 1824, he writes : 

" Here I am in the midst of my domains^ haying just dismissed my 
little flock after our morning's labor. By dint of patience and skill I 
have brought my pupils to a much better degree of order than they 
once were in, and so far as I can discover, my instructions give satis- 
faction to my employers. Habit has now made the business much 
easier to me than it was at first, and I do not think it wears upon me 
more than my college studies did. One of the most pleasant circum- 
stances of my situation is the possession of freedom, the power of regu- 



MEMOIR. 11 

lating my own actions, of forming my own character, and the necessity 
of relying on my own exertions. 

" I do not attempt to study much but mankind, and for this I have the 
most ample means. I am with the yoftng and the old, ministers and 
laymen, Unitarians and orthodox, city and country folks, lawyers, 
merchants, mechanics, and scholars, girls, ladies, and old women, and 
the study is one into which I enter with a good deal of relish." 

Dec. 30th, 1824. — " Last week I had a vacation of a few days, and 
went to Andover, where I enjoyed a most delightful visit. You may 
imagine how heartily and joyfully I greeted my old college acquaint- 
ance — how many sleeping associations were revived, what glorious 
times we had in talking over past matters ! The two days I spent there 
seemed shorter than any five minutes I have spent in my school. 

" But now I have returned home, and to-morrow must again go to 
work, to animate dullness, to spur forward stupidity, to chasten per- 
verseness, to fill up vacuity, and to extract thought from the reluctant 
school-boy. But ' labor omnia vincit,' as my old master used to tell 
us, or, as one of my boys translated it, ' work binds all men,' and how- 
ever much he differed from the original, he yet got at something that 
was true." 

June 26th. — " I have lately been obliged to take charge of a Sabbath- 
school. Some ladies of this place wished to establish one, but were 
about giving it up, because they could not find a single person, not 
even the deacons of the church, willing to superintend it. They ap- 
plied to me, and I could not refuse, for I thought I might do good. 
Most of the teachers are older than myself, and the school assembles in 
the church ; and there I am obliged to stand and pray, so frightened at 
the sound of my own voice, so agitated, that frequently I do not recover 
from it the whole day. 

" Beside doing this, I have the charge of a class, as well as of the 
whole school, so impossible is it to find persons willing to engage in the 
employment. There are about seventy scholars, and on the whole, 
considering the discouragements, of which you can form little idea, we 
succeed very well." 

In the autumn of 1825 Mr. Perkins left his school for 
the purpose of studying in New-York, having chosen the 
law as his profession. 



12 MEMOIR. 

Nov. 1st, 1825, he writes : 

"After travelling about the country for several weeks, I have now 
settled myself in this great city, for the winter at least, perhaps for 
life. My situation and prospects are as good as I could expect ; my 
health very good, my eyes in such a state that I can easily use them all 
day. The office has as many advantages for study and improvement as 
any in the city, and I like the study of law." 

Again he says : 

"The great danger to which lam exposed I conceive to be this, that 
associated as I necessarily am with irreligious persons, I may insensibly 
adopt their principles and feelings, and hardly be sensible of the 
change." 

Feb. 20th, 1826, he writes : 

" For the last three months I have often asked myself, If I were in 
the path of life I ought to be pursuing — if I were doing all the good in 
the world which I might do ? This subject has engaged a large portion 
of my thoughts, and has been made the topic of very frequent and se- 
rious and prayerful reflection. "When I considered my own circum- 
stances and the situation of the religious world, that there were men 
enough ready to perform the active business of life, and few compara- 
tively willing to devote their lives to the promotion of religion, and 
that to do good is really the great end of existence, I began to think 
that I should more certainly subserve this object by entering a profes- 
sion whose whole duties are devoted to that purpose. 

" After the best attention which I have been able to bestow, the con- 
viction on my mind is strong that such is my duty, and upon this be- 
lief I intend to act." 

Thus deliberately and conscientiously did this young 
man, not yet twenty-two, with worldly influences about 
him and bright earthly prospects before him, weigh and 
decide this great question. And it should be here men- 
tioned/ that when he stated to the lawyer in whose office 
he was, his change of purpose, the gentleman remarked 
with great surprise : " Why, Mr. Perkins, your habits of 



MEMOIR. 13 

study and capacity for business are worth to you ten thou- 
sand dollars a year." 

But after he had thus put his hand to the plough, he was 
never known to look back. 

In a letter, dated Hartford, Aug. 15th, 1826, he says : 

"Among other reasons for not visiting you this summer, I am en- 
gaged in the African Sunday-school, and were I to leave it for a few 
weeks, my class would be broken up, and perhaps I might lose the op- 
portunity of being useful. 

" There is, moreover, at the present time, a very considerable attention 
to religion in Mr. Hawes' society. The opportunity thus given me to 
gain information and interest on every subject connected with revivals 
of religion is very important to me, and ought not to be neglected with- 
out very special reasons. 

" Probably I shall never again be placed in circumstances so favorable 
for observation and instruction in things of this nature ; and you are 
well aware that a minister of this country and of this age can neither 
safely nor innocently remain ignorant respecting them. 

" I am also very loth to give up the delight and profit which this state 
of things is calculated to produce upon my own personal religion. 
There are, I know, some persons who affect to doubt the reality or de- 
sirableness of such special influences of the Spirit, because, forsooth, 
the depravity of man will either counterfeit or abuse them. 

"But, for my own part, I might as well doubt my own existence, as 
to doubt the reality of what I have felt in my own soul, and seen in the 
conduct of others. And I might as well refuse all food, because the 
ignorance of man has taken poison instead of nourishment, as to de- 
precate a season of revival, because some men make it an opportunity 
for exhibiting their folly or wickedness. 

" Moreover, I am engaged in a course of study, and have found a 
constant intercourse with serious and eternal things extremely pleasant. 
To many persons they seem clothed in repulsive gloom, but the fault 
is in the eye, not the object. There is a solidity, a reality, a firmness 
in these things, which nothing else possesses. On them I can place my 
foot and stand secure, and feel that I am neither placed on a tottering 
foundation, nor toiling after vanities. 

" I used to think that I knew as much about religion and the Bible 



14 MEMOIR. 

as it was worth while to know ; but the more I study them, the more 
vast, and inviting, and exhaustless do they appear. 

" If they are not positively new, they certainly are so in relation to 
my mode of receiving them. Those same truths, which seemed to have 
been repeated till they had lost all power to interest or affect, now 
branch out into relations, applications, and utility, of which I never 
before had any conception. And what is best of all, this is but the 
beginning of this knowledge : my whole life, and perhaps my eternity, 
may be directed to the same end." 

His three years of theological study (1826-1829) were 
spent at Andover and New-Haven — two thirds, or more, 
of the time at Andover. From his letters at this period, 
room is found for a few extracts only : 

Andover, Nov. 9th, 1826. — " About one year since, I wrote to you 
from the banks of the Hudson ; the year before, from my Cambridge 
school-room ; and now, from Andover. I should not be surprised if 
my letters in November, 1827, should be dated from the banks of the 
Ganges, or the islands of the sea. However, there is one comfort in 
all these changes, that in five minutes I feel myself at home in any 
place. I had not been in Andover twenty-four hours, when I found a 
room, hired it, had it prepared and moved in, and went to studying on 
the books I had partly finished at Hartford, as if I had only suffered 
an ordinary interruption. From my window I can see mountains 
stretching beyond mountains, until they become too obscure to be dis- 
tinguished from the clouds, with which they seem to mingle. The 
stillness of death broods over the place, and it is that kind of oppress- 
ive stillness which sometimes communicates its own oppression to the 
mind." 

January 26th, 1827. — " In the Seminary we go on as quietly as pos- 
sible ; there is no breaking of windows, no quarrels with the faculty. 
We go to prayers, meetings, lectures and recitations, regularly as the 
days return. "We occasionally go to the reading-room to look at the 
world through the loop-holes ; but the intrigues at Washington, the 
war of Greece, the tumults cf Europe, affect us not, except as afford- 
ing matter for moral reflection, or as they bear on the religious welfare 
of the nations. You would be surprised, if you were here, to observe 
what a large share of attention missions occupy among us." 



MEMOIR. 15 

Mr. Perkins went to Montreal, in the autumn of 1829, 
well furnished for his opening life of labor and usefulness. 
The church, over which he was ordained after a few 
months, and with which he continued to be connected for 
nearly ten years, was composed of American Congrega- 
tionalists, with an intermixture of Scotch, English, and 
Irish Dissenters, and some others, all united under the 
name of the American Presbyterian Church of Montreal. 
Besides this church, there were four other and older Pro- 
testant churches : two of the Church of Scotland, one of 
the Church of England, and one Methodist. Nearly three 
fourths of the population were Roman Catholics, mostly of 
French origin, and speaking the French language. The 
five Protestant churches stood aloof from each other, 
almost as much as the Protestants and Catholics. This 
distance and hostility he labored to overcome, and with 
some little success. 

In June, 1832, the cholera crossed the Atlantic, and 
made its first appearance in Quebec and Montreal, with 
sudden and terrific mortality. In various ways he made 
himself useful. He says: 

July 2, 1832. — " I am going about with some of the physicians to 
become acquainted with the disease, its nature and treatment, for the 
purpose of being useful in advising my poor people. Perhaps, too, if 
God spares my life, I shall be in Hartford about the time it reaches 
you, and then be useful by the information I collect. But I seem to 
myself daringly presumptuous in even supposing that I shall ever see 
you again in this world." 

July 13th. — " We begin to breathe freely once more. We have had a 
few days sufficient to unman the stoutest heart. I recollect one day 
particularly ; it was the afternoon after the death of Mr. D . Ex- 
hausted with fatigue, watching, and weeping, my system in that state 
most favorable to an attack, pain and feebleness in my bowels, I 
crawled out to visit one of my people who was sick, I took my course 



16 MEMOIR. 

through one of our most thronged and busy streets ; it was silent as 
the grave ; one or two solitary passengers alone met my eye ; taverns 
were forsaken, trades and buildings stopped; the dead-carts alone gave 
a horrible animation to the scene. Through this street I painfully took 
my way, with every probability that by the next day I should be dead 
and buried." 

During the first six years of his ministry no less than six 
new Protestant churches were established in Montreal. 
The jostling and competition of churches gave him trouble, 
as appears in the following : 

Montreal, Nov. 2d, 1835. — " I seem to be now getting into a situation 
which, of all others, I have dreaded. We have now eleven churches to 
a Protestant population of about ten thousand. Of course, you will 
see we are more crowded than New- York, with one hundred and twenty 
churches to a population of 250,000. The natural consequence follows. 
The petty and hateful rivalship of spiritual competition rises up, and 
each is contending for existence and numbers. The interest of each 
clashes with all the rest, and of course there is collision and ill-will. 
What ought a man to do ? If he descends to such dirty business, he 
degrades himself and his cause ; if he does not, he just allows any 
body who is impudent and unprincipled to pull down himself and his 
church. Really, my mind is more perplexed with this than with the 
long-agitated question of the origin of evil, or the insoluble problem of 
reconciling decrees and free agency. A man must either become a 
mere sectarian, or else retire from the ministry, or go on a foreign 
?nission. Nay, this is so in what we call ' desolations.' Take any 
backwoods township in Canada, and by the time a man has become 

seated, along comes a or a , or some other sectarian, to 

revile and undermine ; and he has got either to meet the fellow on his 
own ground, or preach to a handful of hearers, or decamp. Again I 
say, what shall we do?" 

The next extract from his letters gives some idea of the 
external things which were helping to form his mind and 
character; but we give it, chiefly, for the subjective view 
it presents : 



MEMOIR. 17 



June 28, 1836. — "The abolition seed scattered by , in 



has sprung up, and an Anti-Slavery Society has been formed. At 
Hartford there is nothing new, except that every man's mouth is full of 
the fortunes that have been made, or are to be made, by speculations 
in land. They are attempting to increase their wealth by the raising of 
silk-worms, and the manufacture of silk. In New- York, the book of 
Maria Monk, who declares she has been a nun in the Hotel Dieu at 
Montreal, is producing an excitement. The Synod of Philadelphia 
condemned and silenced Mr. Barnes [for heresy]. Slavery is discussed 
every where — in Congress, in the pulpit : the public mind is coming 
round. 

>\i if % Of. % S;£ ;|< >|s 

To be a useful minister, is the summit of ambition and of happiness. 
I can repose my cares on Him who careth for me, much better than I 
once could. I long to be among the better society of heaven. Yet I 
am afraid to die. The possibility of mistake in one's hopes is un- 
questionable ; the consequences of mistake are so terrible and remedi- 
less, that I am afraid. My soul shrinks, as from some fearful leap in 
the dark. I am sometimes ready to think, that losing the fear of death 
is in all cases hardihood, not faith." 

The above, and a multitude of other expressions scat- 
tered through a correspondence of many years, show that 
his theological point of view was . essentially orthodox and 
evangelical, though he belonged to that wing of JSTew- 
England orthodoxy which is most liberal. 

During this and the next year his name became asso- 
ciated with the notorious Maria Monk affair, to his no 
small annoyance at the time. September 6, 1836, he says : 

" I have taken the liberty to believe my eyes, and evidence, rather 
than a harlot's testimony; and for this, the Protestant Vindicator has 
been for weeks pouring out the vilest torrent of abuse, slander, and 
scurrility against me, which the annals of newspaper outrage can 
supply. It has galled me considerably. " 

The increase of Romanism in the United States had, a 

few years before, begun to arrest attention, as was very 
9-::- 



18 MEM OIK. , 

natural. Many of our wisest men looked to the future 
with alarm. At that time, Montreal was regarded as the 
very citadel of Romanism in North-America. Maria's 
"Awful Disclosures" afforded excellent material for a 
grand assault upon this stronghold of the enemy. " Im- 
mense editions of the work were sold in rapid succession, 
and gained, to an astonishing degree, belief among all 
classes of readers. Even intelligent and candid men 
began to receive her fictions as authentic details of fact." 
When, therefore, Mr. Perkins, who, from his position on 
the spot, was expected to be foremost among the Protestant 
leaders against the common enemy, actually came out as a 
defender of the Catholics, the vials of Protestant wrath 
were poured out upon his innocent head overwhelmingly. 
It was the hottest of the anti-Catholic war. A weaker 
man might have been injured, or even crushed. He went 
bravely through the fire, and came out at last with honor. 
In the Quarterly Christian Spectator of June, 1837, is an 
article of twenty pages from his pen, in which the history 
of this remarkable imposture is clearly and powerfully 
given. We commend the article to all readers as a very 
interesting chapter in the religious history of the country. 
We quote from it a few sentences : 

" If the natural history of ' gullibility' is ever written, the imposture 
of Maria Monk must hold a prominent place in its pages. That a 
miserable and well-known prostitute in the city of Montreal should in- 
vent a tale of monstrous and self-evident absurdities, and by means 
thereof gain immense sums of money to herself, and universal credit to 
her story ; that she who is, on her own confession, a murderer, a forni- 
cator, and a liar of the most depraved character, should gain credit 
among well-informed and intelligent men, and should be received and 
caressed in good society in the city of New York ; that all who venture 
to doubt, or even to examine the truth of her story, should be de- 
nounced as the panders of Popery and aids to the devil : all this is 



MEMOIR. 19 

most wonderful, and deserves to be recorded among the phenomena of 
the age. 

$ & tfc A 4f> ^e -' ' % 4 

" She found a few minds possessed with a monomania on the subject 
of Popery, to whom her tale furnished just the means necessary to pro- 
duce the excitement they wished. They were perfectly rabid from the 
dread of Popery, and anticipating from it the speedy destruction of our 
free institutions, determined to crush it. It is to be feared they were 
not always fastidious in the selection of their instruments. Indeed, one 
who professed to be a partial believer in the works of Maria, was heard 
to declare : ' No matter if the Disclosures are false — the priests are bad 
enough, and the lie will do good.' With such Protestants we have no 
communion." 

Farther on in the paper, speaking of the Irish and Ger- 
man Catholics, then beginning to come over in considerable 
numbers, he thus proceeds : 

" But how were the Catholics treated ? Like conspirators and 
enemies. Christians and politicians denounced them as the enemies of 
religion and liberty. Certain bloodhounds in the form of periodical 
writers were let loose to mangle them indiscriminately, as spirits from 
the pit. The whole community were taught to regard them with a 
kind of horror, as being, from the least to the greatest of them, the 
accredited agents of pandemonium." 

This defense of the Catholics at that time, against Pro- 
testant bigotry, was all the more honorable to Mr. Perkins, 
from the fact that he had not a particle of sympathy with 
Romanism. Through life he agreed with the majority of 
Protestants in their very unfavorable opinion of Catholics ; 
but he believed in honesty, and at the risk of dishonor to 
himself, he came nobly forward to defend his enemies. 
Those who, ten years later, misunderstood and misrepre- 
sented him, when he again stood up in defense of an un- 
popular cause, should have remembered what heroic blood 
was in this just and honorable man. 



~t MEMOIR. 

Another trial, which had been goading him for years, is 
alluded to in the following : 

December 16th, 183G. — M At the close of the year, I hare been taking 
a review of our state and history as a church. * * * The congrega- 
tion continues in great harmony, and God has most signally defeated 
all the slanders and efforts of the Free Church, by which they en- 
deavored to sow strife among us, and pull down our church. Probably, 
we never had fairer prospects than at this moment, when the devil has 
been using all his arts to destroy us. What a strange mass a congre- 
gation is ! a mere volcano. The elements of ruin are always there, 
though there may be beauty and fertility on the surface ; and let the 
pressure only be removed, and fire, desolation, and uproar are the con- 
sequences. I habitually feel like a man sitting on such a heated and 
explosive mass, and of course do not calculate upon a position very 
durable or easy or quiet." 

Contrary to the opinion entertained by many respecting 
him, his habits of mind were conservative, and usually in 
the better sense of the word. He was somewhat deficient 
in the broad sympathies which enable a man to pass readily 
from one point of view to another, and to do full justice to 
all sides of a subject. When a question was under formal 
examination before him, he was patient and candid in his 
attention to evidence, but his mind once made up, there 
was afterward but a poor chance for new evidence that 
might arise. The opinion that was discarded was hence- 
forth to be only opposed ; the opinion that was embraced 
was to be defended vigorously. He possessed, however, in 
considerable measure, the power acquired in various degrees 
by men of cultivated minds, of holding the mind in suspense 
over unexamined subjects, and parts of subjects. His men- 
tal habits can be pretty clearly traced in the extracts we 
make, and especially in the following : 

Aug. 5m, 1837. — " I have lately been looking into ' Cudworth's Intel- 
lectual Svstem of the Universe.' On some accounts I have been much 



MEMOIR. 21 

interested in it. His plan leads him to collect all which men of every 
age, sect, nation, and religion, have thought and said on the subject of 
Deity, his existence and attributes. As a repository of facts for a his- 
tory of opinion on that subject it is invaluable, and as a portion of the 
history of the human mind, it is exceedingly curious. I have been 
startled by the statements (statements backed by quotations) of the 
sentiments of Zoroaster, the Magi, Plato, etc., on the subject of a triad. 
Traces of that doctrine are found in all the eastern systems of religion. 
Whence came they ? Or is the doctrine so evident, that philosophers 
in all ages who think much, must hit upon it ? Or did the fathers, 
tinctured with the Persian or Platonic system, so far forth paganize 
Christianity ? Certainly, on this last inquiry, a Unitarian might frame 
a more plausible argument against the Trinity, from the facts collected 
by Cudworth, than I have ever met. On one point, I am persuaded 
there is retained by many theologians the heathenish philosophy. 
Whoever reads what Plato and others have written about the generation 
of the logos or second God, will be at no loss to decide where the an- 
cient fathers got their phraseology, and whence Dr. drew his 

dogma of the eternal generation of the Son of God. M * * * * 

" I think I have found the secret of happiness at last. A distinct ap- 
prehension of the truth that God reigns, with a willingness that he 
should reign. In that simple state of mind is wrapped up the wonder- 
ful mystery of happiness. I never knew for years what it was to evjoy 
myself. I had gleams of pleasure like the glare of the lightning — now 
my soul is like the landscape you see from our mountain on a beautiful 
summer's day, lying sweetly and serenely beneath a kindly sun." 

Mr. Perkins had been a careful observer of the discussions, 
complaints, and asperities of Canadian politics. He be- 
lieved there were grievances and abuses which the govern 
ment ought to remove ; his sympathies were with the 
reformers — he hoped for redress and reform without rebel- 
lion. But when the more rash and headstrong among the 
popular leaders appealed to physical force, and with plans 
and means very insufficient, he withdrew his sympathies. 
His course throughout, was that of strict and dignified 
neutrality, so that he secured the respect of both parties. 



22 MEMOIR. 

During the winter of 1837-8, lie and his family were sur- 
rounded by the excitements, alarms, and even terrors, of 
actual war. Fears were entertained that if the patriots 
succeeded, the Protestants of Montreal, at least those who 
were of the government party, would be slaughtered. 

Nov. 28th, 1837. — " For the last six months, as we now learn, there 
have been secretly forming plans of revolt. Money, arms, and ammu- 
nition have been provided, and thorough plans of political and military 
organization put in operation through the country. The government, 
after getting all the requisite information, commenced about a fortnight 
since making arrests. The leaders immediately fled, and collected them- 
selves and their forces at St. Charles. T. S. Brown was the commander 
of their forces, amounting to two thousand men. The place was as 
strongly fortified as the time and means would permit." * * * * 
"St. Charles was taken and burnt, and an immense slaughter made 
among the poor Canadians ; rumor speaks of several hundreds slain." 
* * : * * " The means of defense within the city are going forward 
vigorously. The authorities are drawing a line of barriers all around 
the city, nearly coincident with the line of the old wall. Just in Bona- 
venture street, near our church, is a huge barrier of solid timber ; across 
the Haymarket, near the creek in the rear of our church, is another. 
Only a few streets will be left open for the necessary purposes of the 
citizens. Of course, my house is outside the barriers, and we are 
obliged to make a tedious circuit to get into the city. In case of dan- 
ger we can remove within the fortifications. 

Dec. 16th, 1837. — " On Wednesday last (Dec. 13th) the troops passed 
my house on their way to Grand Brule, near St. Andrew's, about forty 
miles north-west of Montreal. "With the formidable train of artillery 
they made a splendid and imposing appearance. It was evident to my 
mind that the Canadians could not stand a moment before such an ar- 
ray. On Thursday we heard rumors of a successful engagement at St. 
Eustache, about twenty miles from this city, on the afternoon of that 
day. The next morning, in company with several other gentlemen, I 
started for the scene of action. On reaching the summit of the moun- 
tain and looking toward the place, we saw the smoke ascending ' like 
the smoke of a furnace,' and marking without guide or guide-post the 
place of desolation. I gave the reins to my horse, who seemed impa- 



MEMOIR. 23 

tient to be on the spot, and we rapidly coursed over the intervening 
distance. When vre came within two miles of St. Eustache, I perceived 
a peculiar odor in the air, like the smell of burning human bodies. I 
started at the thought, and deemed it impossible that any amount of 
destruction could have produced such an effect. Yet it was too true, for a 
nearer approach and examination only gave stronger and stronger evi- 
dence, in sight and smell, that such was the actual fact." * * * " Going 
round into the church-yard and in rear of the church, where the severest 
fighting took place as the Canadians endeavored to escape to the ice, 
carcasses lay thickly strewn — some half-burnt — some with ghastly 
wounds in the head, the breast, or side, lying in all postures. One 
poor fellow particularly attracted my notice. He was lying on his back 
with his hands raised and brought together in the attitude of prayer. 
Receiving his death-wound, he had probably exerted the last remains 
of strength in calling on his saint." 

We pass from a battle-field to domestic affliction : 

March 5th, 1838. — " "What anguish rends our hearts — who can de- 
scribe the unutterable grief of a father and mother, burying all their child- 
ren ? I weep, oh ! how bitterly, but I have not one rebellious feeling ; I 
recognize the hand of God." * * * * " One fortnight since our 
nursery was bright and noisy with two as bright and precious babes as 
ever rejoiced a parent's heart. Now, our house is left unto us desolate ; 
and Mary Ann and I, alone and sad, bereaved and childless, must tread 
our future pilgrimage." 

His conscience was at times too exacting ; his sense of 
responsibility became morbid. This was one of the causes 
which at length proved too much even for his vigorous 
health. 

Mat 17th, 1838. — " Next Sabbath is the eighth anniversary of my or- 
dination, and I am preparing a sermon for the occasion. My thoughts 
naturally recur to the past. The spots which memory selects from the 
thickly crowded events of the last eight years are : My acquaintance 
with ; the cholera ; the death of my children ; the war, and com- 
mercial embarrassments. Not as an event, but as the atmosphere min- 
gled with all these, I reflect with dismay and the acutest anguish on my 



24 MEMOIR. 

sins as a minister, and the frightful barrenness of my ministry. There 
have been revivals when I have had the aid of other ministers, but God 
has never blessed my own exertions with any thing like a revival. At 
the present time more than two years have elapsed since there has 
been any attention to religion in the congregation. I have written to 
you before on the subject, but no language can express my feelings. I 
have no doubt that my constitution is broken by these emotions, and 
that they are killing me."* 

May 28th, 1838. — "On the last Sabbath I preached on the eighth anni- 
versary of my settlement. These occasions are interesting to me, and 
my people usually take some pains to celebrate them. The singers 
learn new music, and perform some good set pieces, which do credit to 
themselves and are a gratifying testimony of their regard for me. Such 
celebrations most evidently tend to wear away alienations — to develop 
and strengthen mutual attachment between pastor and people. They 
all seem to take me by the hand more cordially after such a celebration. 
I looked over my records the other day, and find that only forty-five 
members of the church remain of all who were here when I was settled, 
and only thirty-seven families now exist of those who constituted the 
congregation eight years ago." 

Besides his labors, his domestic affliction, his morbid 
conscientiousness in regard to the supposed want of success 
in his ministry, there was a fourth cause working against 
his health. Knowing that exercise was important, he un- 
dertook to steal the time necessary for it from the hours of 
rest. Even in the cold mornings of a Canadian winter he 
would mount his horse long before light, take a canter on 
the bleak mountain's side, and return home to his books 
and papers before the morning had dawned. In one of his 
letters of an earlier date he says : "I am diminishing my 
sleep, taking only six hours, and thinking of coming gradually 

* Yet Mr. Perkins' ministry was successful, and his church grew in num- 
be s, notwithstanding the changes mentioned in the next extract, while in 
later years there were periods when there occurred among his people a quiet 
but continuous revival. 



MEMOIR. 25 

down to five." Eo wonder his health was at last complete- 
ly prostrated, and that too for years. However, the two 
and a half years of his " idleness " as he called it, were to 
himself and others among the most useful and productive 
of his life. During this period his letters were numerous, 
long, and interesting, and would till a volume. Our ex- 
tracts are restricted to narrow limits. 

New- York, Sep. 28th, 1838. — " I went up the river Ohio from Cincin- 
nati two hundred miles, and then south into the western part of Vir- 
ginia to reach the Red Sulphur Springs, whose waters are said to be 
adapted to my complaints. When I entered this abode of slavery with 
the intention of residing and travelling in it for several weeks, I determined 
to keep my eyes, ears, and mind fully awake to observe all the aspects 
and results of this ' Patriarchal Institution.' I conversed a great deal 
on the subject with men of various classes, and have given in my letters 
a great variety of facts, reasonings, and incidents, which fell within my 
own observation. I can give as the general result, the following state- 
ment : that my abhorrence of slavery is increased ; that its immoral 
and paralyzing influence on the people is as palpable to one who enters 
Virginia, as is the similar effect of Popery to one who passes the line 
which divides Canada from Vermont ; that its outward manifestations, 
so far as the appearance and treatment of the slaves are concerned, are 
not at all repulsive. I found, too, a perfect readiness in all with whom 
I came in contact, to converse freely on the subject ; and, provided I 
kept my temper and was not personal, there was no more heat and no 
more danger in the discussions than in New-England. They distinctly 
said, they were not at all averse to discussing the subject; they were 
willing to do it with me or any one else. They were actually discussing 
it in their pamphlets, magazines, and papers — and that all which ex- 
cited their indignation, was the tone of dictation and denunciation as- 
sumed by Northern men. There is no doubt that many good people at 
the South, do most heartily wish that slavery did not exist, but they 
know not what to do. They say, and truly too, if it is not the duty of 
Northern men to come here and write and preach against slavery, be- 
cause the certain consequences to them will be persecution, perhaps 
violence and death ; then it is no more our duty, who are here, to take a 
similar course, with the certainty of similar results. They will not ex- 



26 MEMOIR. 

pose themselves to danger for the slave, yet abuse us because we will 
not run upon infallible danger and ruin." 

New-York, Nov. 14th, 1838. — " In May last I left home, sick with the 
bronchitis, and travelled to Washington, then to Hartford, Hatfield, and 
home. Still unable to preach, I left home again in July, travelled through 
the lakes, Ohio, and Virginia, and returned to Montreal in October. 
I preached four Sabbaths, and found that my hoarseness and cough re- 
turned, and therefore concluded to spend the winter in the West-Indies. 
Accordingly we left home a few days since, and have come to this place 
for the purpose of taking ship for Santa Cruz." 

New- York, Nov. 16th, 1838 — " Personal sanctification does not consist 
in any particular joys, as it is the pernicious tendency of most memoirs 
to make us believe ; but, as I am more and more persuaded, in being 
cheerfully satisfied with all God does, and affectionately doing what 
God wishes, in the circumstances which he selects for us. For me to 
be cheerful in my present banishment because God wills it, is just as 
pleasing to him as if I were preaching all winter." 

St. Cruz, Jan. 10th, 1839. — "We arrived here on the 27th of December, 
after a pleasant voyage of fourteen days, and have begun to look about 
us. The novelty of a tropical climate, and the variety and beauty of 
the new trees and new forms of life, have of course interested us much. 
This island enjoys a perpetual summer. It is impossible to describe its 
beauty. It is under the most perfect cultivation. Even the highest 
and steepest hills are like gardens to their very summits. The roads 
are smooth, neat, gracefully laid out, and finely shaded with trees. The 
hills and valleys are admirably grouped for effect. The mansions of the 
planters, with which the whole island is dotted, are most tastefully 
placed. In whatever direction one drives, the road appears to lead 
through parks and gardens, so finished and picturesque is all the 
scenery." 

" We are in the midst of negroes and negro slavery. Out of a popu- 
lation of thirty thousand, there are twenty-five thousand blacks. But I 
fear my abolitionism will receive no impulse from a residence here. In 
the family we have slaves as servants. They are so filthy, so lazy, im- 
pudent, and thievish, that it requires no small effort to avoid hating 
them. Now, all this, you will say, is wrong — so it is. You will farther 
say, that all these detestable qualities are the result of slavery — so they 
are ; but really when one gets into the midst of these blacks, all the 
sentimentalism of the abolitionist vanishes, and one is obliged to plead, 
not for fathers, mothers, and oppressed but noble minds, in these filthy 



MEMOIR. 27 

shameless, semi-brutes, but to go back to first principles, and take his 
start from them, without respect to the beings to whom those principles 
are to be applied." 

Feb. 12th, 1839. — " I had supposed till my arrival here, that the slave- 
trade was extinct, but I find that it is carried on with the Spanish 
islands as actively as ever. Thousand, and some say tens of thousands, 
are imported from Africa and sold there every year. Porto Rico, one 
of these islands, is in sight from our window, and of course the traffic 
passes very near us. There are English cruisers constantly prowling 
about in pursuit of the slavers. One of these brigs, well armed, often 
comes to the entrance of our harbor, and lazily stands off and on for a 
few hours, like a sentry pacing his rounds, and then darts off in pursuit 
of her prey. But the slave ships, by dodging about among the islands, 
generally elude pursuit. It is matter of great consequence to these 
traders in human flesh that their stock should come into market in 
good health. The sales even of healthy negroes will be injured, if it is 
known that sickness has been among them during the voyage. To pre- 
vent any such deterioration in price, and bring the cargo into port in 
good condition, and without suspicion of taint, all who are sick near the 
termination of the voyage, are remorselessly thrown overboard. I was 
assured of the truth of this by a gentleman, long a resident on the 
island, and who being himself a slaveholder, would not be anxious that 
any unnecessary infamy should attach to the system." 

St. Ckoix, March 29th, 1839. — "As this is but a petty island, we 
began to feel the incipient stages of ennui, after the novelty of tropical 
scenes was over and we had traversed the country in all directions to 
discover and admire its beauties. Some of the visitors, therefore, a few 
weeks since, hired the fine large ship Emily, with most excellent accom- 
modations, to make an excursion among the windward islands, and I 
eagerly seized the opportunity of enlarging my acquaintance with the 
West-Indies. We struck off for Barbadoes. Having letters of intro- 
duction, I had a favorable opportunity of learning the results of eman- 
cipation." * * * * "At the breakfast-table we continued the 
discussion of the great subject uppermost in our thoughts. It was con- 
ceded that in some of the islands, as Trinidad and Jamaica, emancipation 
was injurious, and in some cases ruinous, to the pecuniary interests of 
the planters. The reasons were obvious. The planters had totally 
neglected the education of the people when slaves, and of course they 
were ignorant and unmanageable now, fond of indolence, and unmoved 
by any motives but those of present impulse. The owners too had 



23 MEMOIR. 

resisted emancipation so obstinately as to exasperate the negroes while 
slaves, and the sense of injury remains with them now that they are 
free. The spirit of slavery remains in the mind of the master since 
emancipation, and he has therefore in various ways ill-treated and op- 
pressed the liberated negro. Therefore, they are not disposed to work, 
or in any way regard the interests of the planters. And as in those 
islands there is much waste land to which they can go and raise their 
own provisions, all these causes have led them in many cases to work 
little or none on the plantations, and of course much loss has been oc- 
casioned. I saw other gentlemen on the island ; their information was 
corroborative of what I have now stated. All our company on board 
the ship were occupied in investigations like my own, and saw many 
'different individuals. We all of us heard the same testimony, and, so 
far as we could learn, there was but one opinion on the subject of eman- 
cipation. All liked it — none would wish the island thrown back into 
its former state. As a pecuniary question, the liberation of the slave has 
been shown to be advantageous." 

" Leaving Barbardoes, we touched at Fort Royal, Martinique, which 
has lately been visited by a terrible earthquake. The scene of desolation 
was frightful. At least one half of the houses were lying in heaps of 
rubbish, and of the other half not one had escaped uninjured. Yet the 
number killed was astonishingly small. Only two hundred and thirty- 
nine, out of a population of ten thousand, were crushed by the fall of so 
many houses. We then sailed close along the shores of Dominique and 
Guadaloupe, two most beautiful islands, the scenery of which kept me 
in a state of excitement and rapture the whole day. We next stopped 
at St. Christopher's, an English island, abounding in most exquisite 
scenery. The working of the emancipation system here, was not quite 
so favorable to the pecuniary interests of the planters as in Barbadoes, 
but still industry and business, after some interruption and consequent 
loss last summer, are now going on well. Passing by Nevis we an- 
chored at St. Eustatia, a petty Dutch island, yielding about as much 
as one large estate in other islands, but once a place of great trade, 
when direct intercourse between the United States and the English 
islands was prohibited ; the town is in ruins. We went to St. Bartholo- 
mew's, a Swedish island, a mere rock, but once, like St. Eustatia, a place 
of great business, and for the same reason ; but now also, for the same 
cause, in ruins. Touching at St. Thomas, a place of great wealth and 
business, we returned to this our temporary home, highly delighted 
with our excursion." 



MEMOIR. 29 

In the summer of 1889, after his return from the West- 
Indies, finding that his health would not yet allow him to 
preach, he took a dismission from his people in Montreal, 
with great regret on their part and equal reluctance on his. 
He i eturned to his friends in Connecticut, where he found 
the rest and calm he needed. The good effect of repose to 
body and mind began soon to appear. 

Hartford, Nov. 27th, 1839. — " I think I have at last learned one thing 
— a simple thing, to be sure, which some very ignorant Christians have 
learned speedily and easily, but which has made its way into my skull 
or heart — I don't know which is the hardest — very slowly. I hardly 
know whether to call the lesson trust in God, or knowledge of myself. 
But at Montreal and elsewhere I thought things must suffer, or serious 
evil surely follow, if I could not do what seemed necessary or desirable ; 
and endured great distress and nervous suffering on that account. What 
a fool ! Not a being, not an interest, not any thing or person of any 
description, in anyplace whatever, has felt loss, pain, or diminution of 
prosperity or happiness, by my sickness, departure from Montreal, and 
long-continued idleness. Indeed, there is some danger that I now vi- 
brate to the opposite extreme, and either become a fatalist or imagine 
that it is of no consequence either what I do or leave undone. At any 
rate, I think I am cured of that species of sin and folly, and shall be 
content with the legitimate pain which results from my being a sinner, 
without gratuitously assuming that which results from ineffectual en- 
deavors to govern the universe. 

* Hs ♦ * ♦ H* -\i H< 

I suppose you have received all my previous letters, and know my 
history and my wanderings since May, 1838, when I ceased to preach 
and commenced idler. If any body sends you the Commercial Adver- 
tiser, you will there find a series of letters or sketches of mine concern- 
ing the West- Indies." 

Hartford, Jan. 1st, 1840. — "How singularly have I been tossed about 
the world, in a way and in directions so utterly unlooked for ! From 
the time I first directed my steps to Montreal, every path I have trod 
has been the one most remote from all the plans and anticipations I had 
ever formed. All the trying events from the time of the first cholera 
and the death of — — , including the death of , and of my children, 



30 MEMOIR. 

pestilence, war, and loss of health, were of a nature most unlooked for. 
But they have all come in kindness. I look back on them all with 
chastened pleasure, and adore with amazement inexpressible, the won- 
derful manner in which God has guided and supported me through 
all, and cast me ashore in this quiet haven, where I may rest, reflect, 
and launch out again, I hope, a wiser and better man." 

Through, the year 1840 he lived a farmer's life, and a 
wiser step he never took. This year laid the foundation of 
all his subsequent usefulness and happiness. 

Hartford, March 6th, 1840. — " I am very busy farming and trim- 
ming the apple trees, and putting fences in order. Who knows that I 
shall be any thing more than a day laborer for the rest of my days ?" 

March 16th. — "Just at present I am wonderfully calm and in- 
dependent as to all parties ecclesiastical and political. I am in a situa- 
tion in which I want nothing from them, and in which they can do me 
neither good nor ill. My brother has bought a farm about two miles 
from the city, and I have undertaken the management of it for the pre- 
sent year. I go out there regularly every day, and although the sea- 
son does not allow us to do much, yet I am quite busy." 

April. — " The weather is becoming mild and summer-like. I have 
got my spring wheat and grass-seed into the ground, and part of my 
oats, and am busy with my men in getting the land prepared for the 
seed. I have a family of fine young pigs and a brood of lively little 

ducklings, dabbling about in the water like old Mrs. in theology, 

and looking for all the world as wise as she. I eat in a style which 
would throw Graham, Alcott, et id genus omne, into hysterics." 

August 23d. — " The summer is almost gone. I have 'pursued, 
without interruption, from day to day my agricultural occupations. 
My hay is all secured, my corn, potatoes, and roots are coming on fine- 
ly, and my apples promise to gladden the next winter's evenings. 
The only vacation which I have allowed myself was a brief visit to 
New Haven during commencement week. 

Dr. Beecher preached in our church to-day. He retains his former 
peculiarities, but has lost some of his vivacity and fire. He has been 



MEMOIR. 31 

delivering at Dartmouth and New-Haven a discourse on ' Edwards vin- 
dicated from the charge of Fatalism.' His daughter Catharine endea- 
vored to sustain the charge in a labored article in the Biblical Reposi- 
tory about a year since, which has attracted considerable attention. 
The daughter has the right of it, as I think. From the first moment 
that I read Edwards' definition of the will, fifteen years ago, I was dis- 
satisfied with his reasoning ; and while New-England theologians have 
agreed to call him master, I have always felt very little deference for 
him. But of course it would be the height of arrogance to make such 
a statement. I should like to know how many of those who worship 
Edwards, have read his Treatise on the Will, and of those who have 
read, how many understand. Will the age of humbugs ever be past — 
will cant and man-worship ever ce'ase — will those who do not think, 
ever be satisfied without being pinned to some great man ?" 

The opinion indicated above, of the Treatise on the Will, 
and of Edwards as an authority in metaphysics, he was 
heard several years later to repeat in conversation. At the 
time he first formed the opinion, it was an opinion very 
rarely entertained, and still more rarely expressed. Gradu- 
ally and insensibly, metaphysical notions have come in 
very different from those of Edwards, but as very few now 
read Edwards, the idea still prevails that the Treatise on 
the "Will is a Metaphysical Bible, never to be questioned. 
This will not continue always. Man-worship may not 
cease, but there will be a change of idols. 

During the autumn of 1840 Mr. Perkins was for a time 
in negotiation respecting a professorship in Lane Seminary, 
near Cincinnati, but that plan was abandoned, and early 
in 1841 he commenced preaching in Meriden, Ct. 

The clerical office, in some important respects, is unfa- 
vorable to independence of mind and character, particu- 
larly so during the first years of the young man's ministe- 
rial life. In his inexperience he is thrown into an old and 
firmly -established system of opinions and usages, and has 
often to meet expectations above his years and his present 



32 MEMOIR. 

strength. Speaking in one of his letters in 1830, of a pro- 
position to settle in IS T ew-Haven, he says : 

11 1 never should think of settling in New-Haven, for it would be ut- 
terly impossible for me to sustain myself there. As to my staying 
ing here, [Montreal,] it is doubtful. There is the same objection to this 
as to New Haven. I never can sustain myself in such a place." 

In another letter, written a little later, he says : 

" The weight of such a society as this, in such a place as this, is, 
without any sort of hyperbole, terrific. I am expected to know as 
much, to have as much wisdom, and experience and versatility, as if I 
were fifty years older." 

There is no cant, no sham humility here, from all which 
he was singularly free ; he expressed only what he felt and 
thought. And if a man of his strength, his long and suc- 
cessful preparation, his industry, energy, and courage, was 
thus weighed down, greater still is the pressure upon men 
of ordinary stature and qualification. 

He was urged by a friend to give his reading and study 
a wider range, to go beyond his profession, that he might 
change his point of view and acquire the habit of more in- 
dependent and comprehensive survey. How could a man 
do this with two sermons for the coming Sunday always 
staring him in the face, and critics of narrow view all 
around to report every step out of the beaten track of 
thought and doctrine ? If at first he can barely sustain 
himself by swimming with the current, it is as much as 
can be expected of him, as much as he can himself hope 
for. In very many cases the labor of the minister to keep 
himself afloat, and the consequent practice of moving with 
the current, grow into a confirmed habit. The man is not 
master of his position, but the position is master of the man. 



MEMOIR. 33 

Mr. Perkins, though a man of independent mould, formed 
to control rather than be controlled, had felt the pressure 
of this external influence less as reflected from his own 
congregation, than as emanating from the dignitaries, the 
traditions, the customs, and the literature of his sect. 
These over-mastering influences of the minister's character 
and career are to him, in their working, partly conscious 
and partly unconscious. From the conscious infelicities 
and tyrannies of the minister's life, Mr. Perkins felt him- 
self emancipated when settled in Meriden, partly by his 
previous experience and discipline, and partly by the fa- 
vorable circumstances of his new position. He was at 
peace with himself, and at peace with the surrounding 
world. He had taken the measure of himself, and was 
content and happy to be himself. He dwelt in a higher 
region than sectarian or even general opinion. All this 
appears in the following : 

Meriden, Feb. 28th, 1841. — " Here I am, a country parson. I am be- 
ginning to be quite a new creature. I can go about my duties without 
agitation or anxiety, and thus perform them better, with less fatigue 
to myself. I am perfectly contented with my situation, though it has 
nothing to recommend it beyond what all our country towns possess. 
I have lost all my desire to be great, with the consequent disappoint- 
ment and misery attending such desires. I am happy, because I am in 
the hands of God, and because he regards, not our rank but our hearts. 
I came near, however, having a great name, if nothing else ; for, a few 
days since, I received a proposition from the Trustees of Wabash Col- 
lege, Indiana, to become their President. On some accounts the offer 
was a very attractive one. The head of a thriving College, in a new 
and growing country, with the best minds under his training, can ex- 
ert a better and wider influence than in almost any other situation I 
can conceive. If any thing could satisfy a holy ambition, such a sta- 
tion might. But the labors would be too great." 

Meriden, May 7th, 1841.— "Thus far my residence here has been the 
happiest portion of my life. I want nothing more and nothing higher 
3 



34: MEMOIR. 

than I have ; and when one has all he wants, he is as rich, as great, 
and as happy as he can be. I have learned to take my proper position, 
and to acquiesce in the will of God. I am usefully employed ; have a 
wife and child ; I enjoy to the life country air, country rides and 
scenes, and the retirement, exercise, and leisure which my situation 
here allows. Still, I have learned, too, the instability of human condi- 
tions and hopes. I know, therefore, that a few months may uproot 
ine once more, and dash my health or my family to ruins. But if so, it 
will be so because it is best." 

January 18th, 1842. — " We are living in our new parsonage, planted 
in the midst of our delightful New-England scenery. I have never 
known what happiness was, till coming to Meriden. I enjoy the most 
complete serenity and contentment of mind. I enjoy preparing my 
sermons — I enjoy preaching them. Then, with my joiner's tools, I en- 
joy to the life filling up my Mondays with making boxes for the house, 

playthings for , and doing odd work about the house. I enjoy my 

horse, and my rides among the hills — I enjoy my wife and family — I 
enjoy retirement and freedom from the incessant and vexatious inter- 
ruptions of a city life — I enjoy the country and its employments — I 
enjoy the fact that I do not wish to be or do any thing more than at 
present, (ecclesiastically and politically I mean) — I enjoy my books 
and studies — I enjoy God, and his works, and his goodness. Now if 
you were here, I should enjoy good free talks with you ; for as to free- 
dom of speech, it is possessed no where on this earthly ball, and so I 

talk to ■, and think what I please, and say what is best. I don't 

mean by this that I play the hypocrite, but merely that one's specula- 
tions, reveries, and inquiries can not be told to every one." 

It lias been intimated that he was tenacious of his 
opinions ; that he saw things, except when under formal 
examination, steadily from his own point of view ; that he 
unflinchingly and promptly carried out his theories into 
practice. His daily life and manner implied convictions 
that were strong and steadfast, impelling him forward in a 
line direct as a Roman road. It might be inferred from 
this habit, coupled with the fact of his having carefully 
and long surveyed the whole field of theology, that against 
any new phase of theological thought his eyes would be 



MEMOIR. 85 

closed. In some respects and in some directions it was so, 
but not in all. The currents of the age, the tides of specu- 
lation, moved and swayed even him. When the persecu- 
tion arose against Dr. Bushnell, on account of his new 
orthodoxy and his supposed unwillingness to have his 
thoughts imprisoned by creeds, he not only did not favor 
the outcry, but took some pains to vindicate the right of 
the new thinker to speculate, and speak, and print. Though 
he never adopted the principle contended for by some, 
that standing in the church is to be decided by character 
and not by belief, and that the preacher especially (what- 
ever may be said of children, in body or mind) should 
have entire freedom of thought and unshackled expression, 
yet in practice, notwithstanding his very logical mind, he 
sometimes acted upon it. He did so in this case, and also 
in the case of Dr. Edward Beecher's ''Conflict of Ages." 
His own beliefs were probably little influenced by either of 
these theologians ; but, like others, he learned a useful 
lesson in theological toleration — the hardest of all toleration 
to learn. Men will quietly and tolerantly let geology and 
the other sciences move forward, ploughing up and throw- 
ing aside whole libraries of old conclusions, some of them 
fondly cherished theological convictions ; but when theo- 
logical formulas are questioned, the cry of heresy is raised, 
(and alas for the man who is both heretic and abolitionist!) 
The consequence is, that the work of reforming theology is 
consigned almost exclusively to the hands of science and 
literature and heretics. Our friend kept pace in specula- 
tion with the movement of his denomination ; he was also 
an industrious and systematic student, though confining 
himself for the most part within the bounds of his pro- 
fession. In the following, something may be seen of his 
life among his books, and especially in the department of 
history : 



36 MEMOIR. 

Meriden, Sept. 7th, 1842. — " I am beginning as extensive a research as 
my situation will allow, into Church history, and on my present plan, 
shall be occupied a number of years with my course. I take century 
by century, and from my own books and those of Yale, find out all I 
can, and have this as the regular employment which I fall back upon 
when other occupations allow. I shall make some rare discoveries, at 
least to myself. But alas ! there are treasures in the German which I 
can not reach." 

November 11th, 1842. — "Did you ever trace out the gradual rise of 
ecclesiastical power in the early periods of the Church ? It is amusing, 
as you read the writings of Clemens Romanus, Ignatius, Polycarp, and 
Cyprian, to see a progressive assertion of power by the bishops and 
dignitaries of those days, a rapidly increasing reliance on forms and 
ceremonies, instead of faith and holiness. The whole set of ' the 
Fathers' I cordially dislike. Their testimony, except as to mere mat- 
ters of fact, is not worth a straw, and their ambition was hardly sur- 
passed by that of the contemporaneous emperors. * * * * The 
great humbug just at present afloat is Millerism. They are holding 
meetings in big tents and churches all over the country, drawing 
crowds, and frightening great numbers. What a tremendous gullet 
the befooled public has, and what falsehoods they will swallow down!" 

December 20th, 1842. — " I have just read a work of your favorite 
Carlyle. He is intolerably full of cant. This sentimentalism, or 
affectation, or atheism, or infidelity, or liberality, or freedom from 
evangelism, or by whatever name one chooses to call it, is to me sick- 
ening and detestable." 

Badly as he thought of Carlyle at this time, he came at 
length, by some roundabout method, to be somewhat in- 
fluenced by the tides of thought set in motion by that 
strong writer. 

Mr. Perkins was a strong man in the pulpit. He was 
still stronger out of it. His mental peculiarities and habits, 
(except as modified by the practice of writing sermons,) 
were those of a lawyer, or a judge, or an educator, rather 
than of a preacher. It would have been fortunate for 
politics, if a man of so much conscience had turned his 
mind in that direction. Sham, shuffling, and timidity were 



MEMOIR. 37 

strangers to his nature, and this straightforward nature 
encountered, and sometimes seemed to create, opposition. 
Besides, he was surrounded with the narrow criticism 
which hedges in the pulpit. Early in his career, his 
preaching met with a severe but altogether unmerited 
rebuke. The editor of the National Preacher, happening 
to hear two of his sermons, was pleased, and requested a 
copy for his periodical. After some urging, the copy was 
given. But the editor, afraid of the charge of heresy, 
changed the statement, "Man can obey God," by adding, 
every time it was repeated, " if he will ;" thus making the 
whole weak and absurd, and carrying the aspect of 
timidity and theological manoeuvring. As soon as Mr. 
Perkins saw it, he remonstrated. The editor promised an 
explanation in the Preacher. It was delayed ; and after 
repeated remonstrances, the editor begged off, on the 
ground of injury to his periodical, if it were known that 
he altered sermons. Beautiful morality ! Not long after, 
came forth from an Old-School source, naturally and 
honestly, a scorching and bitter review of the sermons. 
All this was, of course, exceedingly annoying, especially 
as the lash fell upon the wrong shoulders. If there was 
heresy in the sermons, the responsibility of publication 
belonged chiefly to the editor. To the editor belonged 
also the complicated trickery, the double injustice, toward 
author and public. Whether this experience of theological 
intolerance in one quarter, and of theological trimming in 
another, turned him away from theological preaching — the 
kind of preaching in which he was well qualified to excel 
in an open and fair field — we shall not undertake to de- 
termine. So long and so far as restraint is imposed on 
freedom of thought and expression, theology and preaching 
must suffer ; theology must be a mixture of mediaeval 
superstition and timid struggles toward the light; preach- 



38 MEMOIR. 

ing, based thereon, must be stereotyped dullness. The time 
will come, though it does not seem near, when theology, 
throwing off the bondage of tradition, will take its place 
among the sciences, and, like the sciences, be free. And 
then preaching, if it shall survive till that day, will be 
worth hearing. There are a few exceptions to the general 
tameness, but most of the exceptions are obliged to run 
the gauntlet of adverse criticism. 

To the public Mr. Perkins was best known as an anti- 
slavery reformer. But, on this subject, the time has not 
yet come for doing him full justice. He did not enter this 
field till he was called, nor till the zeal of some, who had 
been leaders, had either burned out or was in some way 
extinguished. A better man could not have been found to 
bear the heat and burden of the day. 

Feb. 28th, 1842, he says : 

" Somebody found out I had been in the West-Indies, and therefore 
sent an urgent request for me to go to an anti-slavery meeting at West- 
brook, and give the results of my observations. So I started off." 

A month later, he says : 

" I have really become quite an abolitionist. I go to anti-slavery 
meetings, and make speeches." 

For the next ten or twelve years he was a very un- 
popular man. But he worked resolutely on, sometimes 
with hope of living to see better days, sometimes without ; 
at times in doubt as to some detail of duty, but never halt- 
ing in his general course. He was called "rash," "unsafe," 
"headstrong," "a man of one idea," "a firebrand;" but 
the more he was misunderstood and misrepresented, the 
more were the sterling qualities of his character developed. 
Few, if any, of his best friends, even those who through- 
out the long years of his unpopularity approved and 



MEMOIR. 89 

cheered bis manly faithfulness, would saj that his words 
were always chosen with exact prudence, that every step 
was marked with entire wisdom. But this admission im- 
pli^ more praise than censure. He who is never too 
severe, is commonly too tame. The reformer who never 
uses words unnecessarily strong, has not in his veins the 
blood of Luther and Milton ; is not made to be a leader, 
not even a soldier, in the grand army of Liberty. The 
true reformer overflows with strength, and can afford to 
waste some of his burning words. Even at Bunker Hill, 
where men were enjoined, by all their love of country, to 
reserve their fire and turn every round to best account, 
there were doubtless some ill-directed shots, some waste 
of powder. Repeatedly he stood up, almost alone, before 
the frowning dignitaries of his sect, the man of wisdom 
and station and wealth, and told them plainly the errors 
and shortcomings of the Church ; but year after year, he 
was voted down. He lived to see some of these adverse 
decisions triumphantly reversed. !N"ot on his account need 
we regret the errors against which he contended. The 
errors and the wrongs therewith connected were to him, 
and will continue to be to others, a fitting moral and in- 
tellectual discipline, bitter often as the winds of winter, 
but also as bracing. 

As a pastor, no man surpassed, scarcely any one equalled 
him. He lived in and for his people. The amount of 
labor he bestowed upon them was astonishing. His idea 
of pastoral duty was far from being completed by friendly 
calls and religious conversation. His eye and heart went 
out over all the interests and wants of those within his 
reach. His whole manner was such, that advice was asked 
of him with the expectation of receiving wise counsel ; 
sympathy and help sought, with the assurance of finding 
an open ear and a prompt hand. The school, the library, 



40 MEMOIR. 

the reading-room, the book-club, the lecture, entered into 
the plan of his pastoral labors. The amusements of his 
people were not forgotten, but the time had not yet come 
for efficient effort in that direction. To the schools around 
him he devoted so much time and energy, that those who 
saw him only in that one department of duty might con- 
clude that schools were his hobby, and that other duties 
had to be neglected for this. Many who saw or heard of 
him at anti-slavery meetings, whither he went when no- 
body else would go, formed and expressed the conclusion 
that he was " eaten up with abolition." But out of the 
hundreds of ministers who thus thought, or spoke, or wrote, 
not one was more comprehensive in views and labors. 
Many who had censured him, were as zealous without 
being as laborious as he, after the repeal of the Missouri 
Compromise, when zeal and bravery against slavery be- 
came at last respectable. Throughout nearly the whole ot 
his Meriden life he was one of the most unpopular men in 
Connecticut ; yet, in truth, there was no one of whom the 
State had more reason to be proud. 

In June, 1851, died his wife, Mary Ann Dickinson, of 
Montreal, with whom he had lived twenty years, and who 
left three children, two daughters and a son, the last of 
whom died a year after. Two years after, he was again 
married to Mrs. Mary Mumford, of Pittsfield and Rochester. 
In July, 1853, they sailed for Europe, and returned in 
November. From his European letters, however interest- 
ing in themselves, there is room for only a brief extract : 

London, Aug. IOth-IStu, 1853. — u Every step has unfolded before 
us something new, beautiful, or curious. The parks, the lakes, the ruins, 
the castles, the palaces, the cathedrals, have all in their turn awakened 
in us the liveliest interest, and opened sources of the highest enjoyment. 
But. I need not, of course, tell you what I have seen. * * * * I 
I was weighed last evening, and came up to the weight of a hundred 



MEMOIR. 41 

and forty-seven pounds — more than I ever reached in my life before. 
* * * * J have heard preach, and was disappointed. In- 
deed, the whole of English preaching unfolds much less intellect than 
our own." " "We are off for the Continent." 

In 1854, about the time the Kansas-Nebraska Bill be- 
came a law, he received an invitation to a church in 
Chicago. It was a difficult question to decide, and he 
hesitated for some time. He felt his obligations to the 
people of Meriden, who had stood by him in his days of 
trial. He was leaving, and perhaps forever, a large circle 
of friends in whom he lived, and who lived in him. There 
were two considerations which weighed with those of his 
friends who advised him to go. His long winter of un- 
popularity in ISTew-En gland, occasioned by his honorable 
faithfulness, had closed against him many doors of influence, 
and a change of scene gave hope of a wider field. The 
other consideration was the demand, in the new empire of 
the North-west, for just such a man. When at last he 
left us, he left behind, in the churches of Connecticut, a few 
men who were more eloquent preachers, or more distin- 
guished in literature, but none of higher character, or better 
qualified to build the foundations of the rising empire of 
the Lakes. From Chicago, he writes : 

Jan. 30th, 1855. — " I have entered on my duties here with a great deal 
of interest, and work very cheerfully and pleasantly. Our church is 
young and small. We meet in a little wooden lecture-room, but we 
grow fast." 

April 20th, 1855. — " I am well, and cheerful : never more so. Occu- 
pation and progress are pleasant. The church has grown much faster 
than I anticipated. I am taking a position in the city much better than 
I expected. New scenes, instead of being wearisome, are interesting 
and exciting to me. Some of my pastoral duties at Meriden had be- 
come dull and burdensome, but here I enter upon them with new spirit. 
On the whole, I am very glad that I made the change ; and unless some 
unexpected reverse overtakes me, I shall not probably ever regret that 

2* 



42 MEMOTR. 

I came here. Our new church is not finished, but it is making rapid 
progress." 

* * * * v * $ * 

" When Hamilton speaks of the impossibility of having any know- 
ledge or idea of the ' absolute,' he falls, I think, into the common error 
of confounding 1 idea and conception. We can not conceive of the abso- 
lute, as we can conceive of an absent man or house. The mind 
struggles after some conception of the absolute; is baffled, of course, 
as it would be if attempting to conceive of hatred, vice, or moral ob- 
ligation ; and then declares that we have no idea or knowledge of the 
absolute. But if one tells me, that because I can not state to him 
whether moral obligation is angular or spherical, therefore I have no 
idea of moral obligation, he talks very foolishly. If he further asks 
me to tell him what moral obligation is, all I can do is to give him a few 
hints, by which he may be led to reflect on his own mental states and 
processes. If, on reflection, he does not find, or consciously know, 
moral obligation, I can not describe or explain it to him. So with the 
absolute — God, spirit, infinity, eternity : on reflection, I know that 
these are to me real and living ideas. If one tells me that the finite 
can not grasp or reach the infinite, he merely plays with words ; and 
the logic really hidden under his apparent demonstration is, I can not 
conceive or imagine a rope long enough to encircle infinity, therefore I 
have no idea of infinity." 

Oct. 23d, 1855. — "I am reading at intervals Neander's Church His- 
tory, and somewhat interested in his mode of viewing facts and doc- 
trines. " But I am vexed with a great deal which I find there, which is 
to me profoundly stupid, or unmeaning, or deep." 

% % ?■ !js :-;: :j: sj; % 

" I thought I was hurried in Meriden, but I knew nothing about it. 
We have at last entered our new house. It is a beautiful one, rich 
and handsome, but without any tawdriness. It was a great day for 
our little church. Since then, we have sold and rented pews enough to 
bring in an income of $3400, and from present appearances, every pew 
will be taken before long. The congregation fills the house. Now, if 
I can be faithful to my duty, great good will result. * * * * 
Theodore Parker lectured here a few days since. I enjoyed the bng- 
wished-for opportunity. His lecture, intellectually, was not equal to 
some of his published articles, but still was an admirable thing." 

The final extract is from a letter written three months 
previous to his death : 



MEMOIR. 43 

Mackinac, Aug. 6th, 1856. — " Forty-eight hours [from Chicago] 
brought us to the magnificent river St. Mary, the outlet of the ' Great 
Lake.' For sixty or seventy miles the river and the countless islands 
were unfolding to us a constant succession of fine views. The canal 
around the Sault is a great work, with locks wide enough to take in our 
huge steamer of more than three hundred feet in length. The delay of 
passing the locks enabled me to visit some settlements of Indians hard 
by, and to inspect their miserable wigwams. On entering Lake Superior, 
I was almost as much excited as when I first launched out into the 
great Atlantic. In order to have an opportunity to examine the mining 
regions, I left the boat at Eagle River, on Keweenaw Point, and spent 
several days in that vicinity, visiting the famous ' Cliff Mine,' with its 
enormous veins of pure copper ; going all over its immense excavations, 
and descending into its deepest subterranean l drifts' and ' shafts ;' 
traversing the country, and examining various other mines, some aban- 
doned, and some with more extensive excavations than the • Cliff,' now 
in progress, yet with very meagre results ; and talking as much as pos- 
sible with miners and all sorts of people. I came to this island to 
spend a few days. The old town is a miserable little rickety affair ; 
but the air is as cool and invigorating as the sea-breeze, and fills my 
lungs with exhilarating gas. I see all sorts of Indians. I stroll over 
the island, which is very picturesque. I sit under the great natural 
arch, no mean resemblance to the Natural Bridge in Virginia. I lounge 
around the fort, and chat with other idle visitors; for this place is 
getting to be an interior Newport." 

For sixteen years, with slight exceptions, his health had 
been good; excellent, as compared with what is often 
called good health. It was kept so by constant care and 
temperance, cheerful exercise, and relaxation. His health 
had never been better than during the two years and two 
months of his Chicago life. He had never worked harder, 
nor more successfully. Besides the ordinary duties in his 
own congregation, he performed a very large amount of 
other work; in the editorship of a newspaper, in the 
establishment of a theological seminary, and in other 
public and philanthropic labors. A man of such large 
capacity for work was invaluable in such a community. 



44 MEMOIR. 

A wider and still wider sphere was opening before him. 
He gave himself to his work as to a refreshment. He did 
not feel it necessary to resort as usual, for relaxation, to his 
New-England home, so dearly loved, from which he had 
never before, at any one time, been absent so long. Though 
he knew it not, the day of coronation was at hand. Six 
days before his end, his illness commenced, but was not 
threatening till the last day. He died Nov. 13, 1856. 
His disease was inflammation of the bowels. His remains 
repose in the cemetery of West-Meriden. 

Mr. Perkins' peculiarities may be told in few words. 
He was a man of well-balanced and well-cultivated mind 
and character ; of sturdy, yet on the whole harmonious 
development. His strong points were, a powerful under- 
standing, industry that never tired, conscience that never 
slept over a duty. He was earnest, practical, systematic, 
efficient ; manly in all his bearing. One could not see him 
even for a short time, without being reminded of those 
strong men who laid the foundations of English liberty, 
who cut down the forests and planted the institutions of 
New-England. His discourses were characterized by lucid 
statement, forcible argument, illustrations that were gene- 
rally striking and always apt, appeals that were powerful, 
and sometimes (when the occasion required) eloquent.- 
Some of his unwritten addresses were his ablest intellectual 
efforts. In conversation, he always left the impression of 
his strength. Higher than his sermons or his conversation, 
were his pastoral and philanthropic labors. Over all, 
higher than his writings or achievements, rose the Man. 

* Reference is here had to the addresses and discourses heard and read by 
the present writer, not to the sermons of this volume ; they have not been 
seen by him. 



SERMONS. 



SERMONS 



i. 

VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

" By it he being dead yet speaketh." — Heb. 11:4. 

We are accustomed to think of the grave as the end of 
activity and influence. As there is no more bodily work, 
nor device, nor knowledge in the grave, we speak of the 
dead as having finished their work, as doing nothing more 
in the world. True, the corpse acts no more. It is mo- 
tionless and powerless. It must be transported to its rest- 
ing-place like a stone. We leave it to decay like the most 
worthless of all substances. It has no more place among 
the activities of earth ; it must go back to dust. 

But is the man dead ? He has only commenced life. 
The man has only just escaped out of prison, where he 
shuffled about uneasily in fetters, and emerged into life, 
where, for good or ill, he is to live forever. Indeed, in 
many cases the influence one exerts is the greatest after he / 
is dead. Life in progress we can not always understand ; 
as a machine or ship unfinished is chaotic in look, and we 
know not what it will be or how it will work ; but when 
completed ,we can look at it, study it, use it either for fuel 
or for service ; we can do something with it : so man's f 
life, finished, will stand out in view of the world, its les- 



4 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

sons all plainly written and easily learned. Even the bad 
man, doing only evil while living, may do much good after 
he is dead, in awful warning. 

Indeed, we all of us desire to live after we are dead ; to 
be remembered, to be often thought of with affection by 
those we leave behind, even though we are to be totally 
unaffected by their praise or blame. For this mere sha- 
dow, baptized Fame, men have sacrificed ease and life. The 
patriot feels himself rewarded for suffering and death in 
his country's defense, if his countrymen will only remem- 
ber him with gratitude after he is dead. Probably there 
is not one of us who would not feel an additional dreariness 
thrown around death, if sure that he would be instantly 
and totally forgotten ; that in no heart would linger an 
affectionate remembrance of him after he should be laid in 
his grave. "We should almost feel in that case that death 
was actual annihilation. Though said in poetry, it is only 
plain prose which finds a response in every mind : 

" To live unknown, to die unpraised ; 
To go into the pit and moulder into dust 
Among vile worms ; such thought 
Is cold about the heart and chills the soul." 

But without pursuing this train of thought, my design 
will be to suggest some very obvious illustrations of the 
text, with the ultimate purpose of a practical application. 

A collection of books is but a crowd of speaking dead 
men. Each volume you see upon those shelves is a reposi- 
tory of dead men's thoughts, embodied in paper and type, 
uttering themselves to whomsoever will look and hear ; still 
preaching and teaching, though hand and tongue are dead. 
We may select our preachers, and bid them speak. " Poly- 
carp ! let us hear thee ; speak to us the words thou didst 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 5 

utter, seventeen hundred years ago, when thou wert burnt 
at the stake." His words ring out as clearly as of old they 
did to the spectators of that fearful fire which consumed him. 
" I thank thee, O Lord ! that thou hast counted me worthy 
of this sacrifice ; without ceasing, let us hold steadfastly 
him who is our hope, and the earnest of our righteousness, 
even Jesus Christ. Let us imitate his patience, and if we 
suffer for his name, let us glorify him." Thus does this 
dead man speak to us out of his pulpit of fire. 

Fifteen hundred years ago, Basil, Bishop of Cesarea, was 
threatened thus at the command of the emperor Yalens for 
inflexible adherence to truth and duty : " Know you not 
that I have power to strip you of your possessions, banish 
you, deprive you of life ?" The undying voice of the old 
dead martyr nobly speaks yet : " He who possesses nothing 
can lose nothing ; all you can take from me is the garments 
I wear and the few books which are my only wealth. As 
to exile, the earth is the Lord's ; every where it will be my 
country, or rather my place of pilgrimage. Death will be 
a mercy ; it will admit me into life." 

Close by the side of these old fathers stands John ±>un- 
yan. That wonderful book of his, the "Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress," has been printed and multiplied in various lan- 
guages. His voice has reached an immense audience of 
many millions. John Bunyan alive, in Bedford jail, could 
speak to the few prisoners only who shared his dungeon 
and the daughter who brought him food. John Bunyan 
dead, is still heard, and at this very hour has a million 
voices to speak with. 

At any moment here, on this spot, we can unseal the 
lips, and hear the voices, of all the noblest preachers who 
ever stirred men's blood. 

Of humble name, yet worthy to stand with the useful 



6 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

dead, we see the unpretending little volume, out of which 
proceeds the voice of Harlan Page. Alive, he talked to a 
thoughtless sinner at the corner of the street, or to a few 
children in the Sabbath-school. Now dead, but his. words 
and deeds stereotyped on these pages, and where con- 
sumption and fatigue never check their utterances, he 
speaks to tens of thousands, and his little congregations are 
collected in countless habitations, learning from him how 
to be happy and useful in all circumstances. His words, 
feebly wdiispered, when dying, through lungs almost con- 
sumed, to one impenitent friend, " O my brother ! it will 
be hard dying without an interest in Christ," steam and 
type repeat with voices which never tire. His last words 
of exhortation, spoken with dying voice to a little knot of 
friends, " Stand fast, be strong in the faith, be active, living 
Christians," are spread louder and wider as time flows on. 

These books, then, are not dead things ; they are living 
thoughts, clothed not in brains, flesh, and blood, but solidi- 
fied and eternized in print ; not spoken by tongue to a lit- 
tle audience, but thundered out through all time from the 
tireless lungs of steam and iron. 

Speak ! who has not felt his pulse beat quicker, and his 
soul grow nobler, as he heard Milton's great voice arguing 
for liberty and truth against the profligacy and oppression 
of the times ? Whose soul has not been stirred on hearing 
the words of Richard Baxter, as they came hot and breath- 
ing from a soul kindled with heaven's own fire ? Who has 
not hated slavery more intensely, as he has listened to the 
plaintive voice of Cowper, or wept over the pictures and 
pathos of Stowe ? 

Entering fully into the spirit of these truths, a great 
writer has said : " Books are not absolutely dead things ; 
they are as active as the soul, whose progeny they are ; 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. i 

almost as soon kill a man as kill a good book ; he who de- 
stroys a good book kills the image of God. A good book 
is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed 
and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life." 

" And is he dead, whose glorious mind 
Lifts thine on high ? 
To live in hearts we leave behind 
Is not to die." 

The founders of Connecticut yet speak. Some two hun- 
dred years ago, when the primeval forests grew on these 
gardens and farms — while red men still swarmed at their 
favorite haunts along the banks of the Connecticut, long 
before one of our streams turned a water-wheel — the noble- 
hearted men who planted this State resolved to have reli- 
gious institutions. There was no Home Missionary Society ; 
manufactures and trade brought them no money. But 
they did not wait, like our modern feeble churches, for 
outside help. Religious instruction they would have. 
They organized the Church ; the house of God went up 
side by side with their log cabins ; as fast as one stick of 
timber was felled for themselves, another was cut clown for 
the meeting-house ; and a temple rose, rude, cheap, un- 
couth — which a fashionable religion might scoff at, but 
in which stout and true men met to worship God, and to 
learn to be like God. 

They are dead. In the old burying-grounds of Connec- 
ticut, if you were to dig down, you could not find a bone 
or shred of them left. Their very grave-stones have tum- 
bled down and have even crumbled back to dust. We 
leave the old cemetery to weeds and pasture, as if we had 
forgotten or despised our fathers. But they live and speak, 
though dead. Our beautiful churches, built on the corner 



8 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

stones they laid in feebleness and poverty, are like the 
rich fruit, which tells us of the little obscure buried seed, 
whence it sprung. Their good deeds and good institutions, 
now blessing us and our children, utter stirring words of 
self-sacrifice and far-reaching benevolence to us ; bidding 
-us to preserve and diffuse the religion they toiled so hard 
to found. Alive, they were a scattered, unknown congre- 
gation in the wilderness ; being dead, their deeds speak 
wherever New-England is known, arousing a holy emula- 
tion. 

Suppose the leading men of that day had been different 
men, that the Davenports, Hookers, Haynes, Winthrops, 
and their associates, had been mere lovers of money, had 
been profligate, unprincipled, selfish, should we be what 
we now are ? Would Connecticut be what it now is ? 
"Would our institutions be what they now are ? 

One need only travel into Canada, to hear how loudly 
the dead speak. Out of the very timbers of the log house, 
which the Canadian farmer builds, just as his fathers did 
two hundred years ago, without one token of improvement, 
the old, narrow, superstitious founders of Canada speak : 
u See," say they, " how admirably we succeeded in crush- 
ing the enterprise of this people, how sagaciously we forged 
fetters for all generations of this people." Their very 
ploughs, thistles, old blue blouses and moccasins, have voices 
through which the despotism, superstition, and ignorance 
of their fathers, speak loudly. 

Some fifty years ago, when the country was yet stagger- 
ing under the load of embarrassment and poverty resulting 
from the Revolutionary War, our Legislature appropriated a 
large amount of money, sacredly and forever to the support 
of schools for universal education. The act was a govern- 
mental miracle. Governments had existed for six thousand 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 9 

years. Great men, sagacious men, had held the reins of 
government. They had lavished money for every con- 
ceivable object which ambition, lust, pride, selfishness could 
desire or invent or wish for. They had never conceived the 
true ends of government ; they thought 

" That high-raised battlements and labored mounds, 
And cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned — 
That bays and broad-armed ports, 
Where laughing at the storm rich navies ride ;" 

that these constituted the end and glory of government. 
They had never dreamed 

" That men, high-minded men, 
Men, who their duties know, 

Who know their rights and knowing dare maintain, 
These constitute a state." 

Accordingly the great end of government, the right 
training of the people to be men, had been almost entirely 
forgotten. While the few were to be educated, it does not 
appear that the wildest dream of philanthropic statesman- 
ship had ever contemplated as practicable, if even desir- 
able, the education of the whole people. The masses 
every where had been left to ignorance and stupidity. 

Connecticut, with some of her sister States, originated 
the great idea ; or at least, found out what they came into 
existence for. She said to her children, We will give you 
opportunity for the best possible education, and here by 
this school fund, we will make our schools as permanent as 
our rocks. 

The men who planned that deed are dead ; of the Legis- 
lature who voted the appropriation, we know comparatively 
nothing. But they placed the prosperity of our State on 



10 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

more enduring materials, than if her corner-stone had been 
laid on gold and silver, and her walls built of diamonds. 
They speak. Out of every school-house, thickly dotted 
over the surface of our State, they speak. If one would 
listen he might hear some such voices as these : 

" There are worthier political objects than office scram- 
bling. We, in our deep poverty, founded and endowed 
these schools and gave to them millions. Will you grudge 
the expense to keep them up ? We lavished money and 
toil to make them as good as possible ; will you refuse the 
money and effort to make them still better ? The schools 
you have, did us no good who died a hundred years ago. 
But we labored for your good, not our own. What would 
have been the condition of your State now, what your own 
condition, had we done nothing except as we could cipher out 
a personal profit therefrom ? Had we made no sacrifices for 
the public and the future — in what ignorance and degener- 
acy might not you have been ! Work then for those who are 
to come after you ; preserve and improve what we so freely 
gave." 

Such are the voices of the dead. 

In quite similar voice the founder of Sabbath-schools 
speaks. Some sixty or seventy years ago, a plain man was 
walking through the streets of Gloucester, and saw what he 
had often seen before — what others had seen and bewailed, 
though idly and hopelessly, a crowd of poor, ignorant and 
vicious children, whose noise and profanity made the Sab- 
bath hideous. One man would have avoided the half-sav- 
age cubs and have forgotten them as speedily as possible ; 
another would perhaps have given them a blow and a 
curse if they had obstructed his path ; another would have 
gone home wishing that something could be done for those 
lost ones. 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 11 

This man stopped, looked, thought — an idea flashed 
across his mind, something I almost think like that incoming 
light from heaven which streamed down into the mind of 
the old prophet, when in the midst of his country's depres- 
sion, he looked into the future and exclaimed : "Arise ! 
shine ! for thy light is come, the glory of the Lord is risen 
upon thee." 

It was the great idea of teaching and reforming these 
half-grown things, already the well-taught pupils of vice 
and Satan. " 'Tis impossible," said Sloth and Unbelief, 
" pass on." "Try," said Benevolence and Hope. " I will 
try," said the man. He did try. He lived awhile, and 
while alive he spoke to as many children as he could per- 
suade to enter his Sabbath-school, and to as many teachers 
as he could induce to aid his labors of love. 

That Robert Raikes is dead. But his institution lives 
and now speaks to two or three millions of children every 
Sabbath. By the side, or rather in the bosom of almost 
every Church in all Protestantdom, there are Sabbath- 
schools. Uncounted millions will feel their influence. To 
them all, the dead man of Gloucester speaks. 

" Try." Robert Raikes has spoken that word to many a 
weary soul. He stood once looking at that graceless throng 
of children, uttering in the fixedness of his purpose, " Try." 
It was only a whisper, nay not that, it was an unuttered 
word which no auditor then heard. But a great congrega- 
tion has heard it since. Many a poor student, depressed, 
in debt, looking dismally into a future dark and stormy, 
fast sinking into the lethargy of hopelessness, has looked at 
Robert Raikes uttering that cheerful word. It arouses him 
as the voice of the angel did the despairing Hagar in the 
wilderness ; he tries again at the obstacles — they vanish. 

A Sabbath-school teacher has sat by his class listless and 



12 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

disheartened ; or has gone home discouraged at his inability 
to interest and benefit them. Then the word of his great 
predecessor comes out of the grave : " Try — try again — try 
harder — try better. See what I did when I tried." Roused 
by the voice from the dead, he .girds himself hopefully to 
his work. 

Those whom we lay in the grave speak. Out of the 
drunkard's grave, fit receptacle for his diseased, loathsome 
body, there comes a voice : " I made myself a fool, a 
brute, a demon ; I am in my own place — come not ye to 
my place of torment." 

Some years since, there arrived at a port in England a 
ship loaded with bones, imported for manure. Those bones 
had been taken from "Waterloo. Those dead men's bones 
speak. When I see men, as in the last Mexican war, rush- 
ing like hyenas to scenes of carnage, officers snuffing up the 
air of slaughter and battle like vultures, poor dupes enticed 
by lies and drunkenness to enlist, and then led out to be 
shot — to be mangled by grape shot, and crushed by horses' 
feet and cannon-wheels, I wish them to hear the voice of 
these bones : " "We died in agony, died as the fool dieth ; 
for what ? that officers may get glory, and we may be used 
like the dunghill." There is very significant preaching out 
of that cargo of dead men's bones. 

The impenitent sinner speaks after he is dead. When 
one of them in his extremity exclaimed in horror, " Oh ! 
how can I die ? — I can't die — I am afraid to die," and then 
sank reluctantly and struggling beneath a power he could 
not resist, he left behind very affecting words, words which 
he speaks to you to-day. Though he speedily vanished out 
of sight, yet he speaks to all like him : " My bed is in hell ; 
rush not madly like me to self-destruction." 

Some of the friends whom we have accompanied down 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 13 

to the brink of Jordan, have spoken to us most delightfully. 
As they caught glimpses of heaven, they uttered voices of 
hope and of peaceful faith in Christ, which linger in our 
ears like music floating on the air after the hand of the 
minstrel has stopped. As they reach the other side of Jor- 
dan, and the shining ones welcome them, we hear their 
voices with heavenlier sweetness, saying : 

" Jerusalem, my happy home, 
Name ever dear to me, 
Here do my labors have an end ~ 
In joy and peace in thee." 

Then as the golden gates close on them, they turn to us 
with the words : " Come, whosoever will, come and take 
of these "Waters of Life freely." 

Death gives new life to the words of the dead. When 
our friends are gone from us, all they ever said or did rises 
out of the tomb of oblivion, and comes thronging back into 
our memories. The son who was thoughtless or surly, when 
his living mother spoke to him of his sins or of his duty, 
or tore himself away from her expostulations as if hardened 
by them — when he stands by her coffin, remembers them 
all. His conscience, awakened by her dead words, speaks : 
he weeps, and resolves, as that dead mother speaks. In- 
deed, I have sometimes thought it was the reason why God 
removes the mother from the child, because the mother will 
speak louder, and the child listen and obey better, when 
the voice comes out of the grave. 

Who that has ever lost a friend, does not know the 
power of these dead voices ? Because we can hear those 
precious, living sounds no more, one travels over and over 
again the past companionship and intercourse, and recalls 
every little incident, each trivial remark, each word of love 

4 



14 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

and advice. Memory drops whatever was imperfect and 
earthly in the dead. The loved one, dead yet remembered, 
is remembered only as pure and angelic, and dwells in our 
hearts as beauty and holiness embodied. Then the thought 
of the dead awakens the full purpose of the soul, to be 
good enough on earth to merit the love of so much excel- 
lence hereafter. Gentle words, which, when spoken in our 
rough moods, rolled off without impression, memory brings 
down to us as the voice of an angel from heaven, and our 
hearts bend to them and obey them with eager joy. One 
finds himself governing his temper, and regulating his 
conduct, and correcting his faults, all because it would 
please that departed friend if present, and may be com- 
municated by God to that departed one in heaven, and 
give joy even there. With what power and sweetness, do 
our departed friends speak ! 

Death speaks. We lose somewhat of the lessons of death, 
from overlooking the ground of its necessity. In this 
world, death is inevitable to all animated beings. We 
speak of it, therefore, as according to the course of nature, 
as if its inevitableness lay inherent in the nature of created 
beings. True, in this world all die. But there is no in- 
timation that death takes place in any world but ours. 
Here we are explicitly told that sin introduced death : 
" By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin." 
But our world, vast as it seems to us, is but an atom in the 
universe of God. That is the course of nature, which takes 
place generally, universally, with few exceptions. 

JSTow generally, in the universe, there is no death : it is 
only here, in one little spot, as the result of sin. Death, 
therefore, is not natural, or according to the course of 
nature, but unnatural, a convulsion contrary to nature. 
Nature fights off death. When death grapples with a 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 15 

strong man, how terribly nature struggles with the enemy, 
as its mighty power enfolds and crushes the body, 'ere it 
lies still and lifeless. The body will sometimes hold out 
long, enduring for months unutterably, and slowly yielding 
to the ponderous blows of death. Sin gives death the 
victory. 

How loudly and instructively then, does death speak ! 
Shut out from all other worlds, and dashed off from them , 
as Satan out of heaven, death then comes down to our 
world with unlimited power, lording it over kings, princes 
and slaves, as resistless in the palace as in the wigwam, 
scattering fevers, consumptions and racking pains, break- 
ing up happy families, wrenching and crushing the stoutest 
frames, in spite of all their care and strength. How intel- 
ligibly, then, death speaks to us of the, evil of sin ! Every 
year, thirty millions of human beings die. Each one 
preaches that same affecting truth. In the room where 
death is wearing out his victim by a process of daily re- 
curring agony, which no medicine can alleviate, which 
God will not interpose to avert, even from his own dear 
child — death is delivering most touching discourses on the 
evil of sin. 

Another man, death levels at a blow, felling him dead on 
the ship's deck, or in his counting-room ; thus speaking in 
places, where God and solemn truth are usually excluded, 
of the evil of sin. 

The babe whose advent gladdened the whole household, 
and whose smiles make toil and care delightful, death tears 
from the mother's arms ; and then, at the side of its beau- 
tiful corpse, which even death can not make unlovely, he • 
speaks to us of the evil of sin. 

Thus do the dead speak. When the grave has closed 
over them, when they have vanished from human affairs, 



16 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

and even their very names are forgotten — their influence 
still abides, indestructible, like the everlasting coral 
rocks which an ephemeral insect builds, then dies, and 
leaves as a lasting monument in the great ocean itself. 
The interlacing filaments of influence, spreading them- 
selves out from the individual, and covering society as with 
a net-work, remain, when the little author of them dies. 
Habits, books, institutions, go down from generation to 
generation, cursing or blessing those whom the living man 
never saw. Thoughts which passed through the mind of 
some old, blind, unbefriended man, hundreds of years ago, 
like Milton, for instance — thoughts spread out in his im- 
mortal poem — are felt now, wherever the English language 
is spoken. 

We are to speak after we are dead. Every human being 
has a history. Man's influence commences with his advent 
into the world ; in his cradle, he makes the house joyous 
and affectionate by his smiles, or disturbs the family by his 
cries and temper. As he comes out into life, every one he 
meets is the better or the worse, more happy or miserable, 
for his influence. If he runs away from society and buries 
himself in a desert, he still leaves behind him, to live and 
speak, the example of duties abandoned. Duties neglected, 
are speaking facts, no less than duties performed or crimes 
committed ; just as the weedy farm and ragged house of 
the sluggard and the drunkard tell a no less evident story 
than the rich harvests and the Eden-like home of the wise 
worker. This history may never pass through the book- 
seller's shop and come out solidified into type and paper, 
but it lives nevertheless. The press may make the man, 
the real history, more widely known ; but with or without 
print, the history lives and speaks. The thoughts and 
character of George Washington, having embodied them- 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 17 

selves in the form of deeds, would have produced just the 
results they did, and would have reached and affected us, 
though Marshall and Sparks had never written. 

The forefathers of this town, who lie mouldering up there 
on yonder hill, worked out a history. They toiled, they 
planned, they debated, they acted, they built, they died. 
No book contains their letters, speeches, disputes, or com- 
memorates their public spirit and noble hearts. Yet they 
speak. They left much behind them for others to learn 
from, and remember them by. This church speaks ; these 
schools speak ; the moral condition of our town speaks ; 
their families, well trained, speak. All these institu- 
tions and influences, moulding those who came after 
them, have lived longer than they did, and have reached 
more minds than they in their life-time could have 
reached. 

So, each one of you is writing out a history which will 
speak after he is dead, to larger or smaller audiences, as it 
may chance. If your agency shall aid, consolidate and 
purify this church, that result becomes an historical fact, 
though no encyclopaedia, or book of memoirs, shall cele- 
brate it. We, the present members of this church, can 
take measures which will affect the progress, character and 
influence of the church for years, perhaps through all time. 
Our folly and sin may speak out fifty years hence, in the 
forlorn, corrupt state of this religious community ; or our 
present zeal and Christian spirit may be speaking through 
a race of earnest Christian church members, trained such 
by us, to men and women yet unborn. 

In a certain church, a quarrel arose fifty years ago. It 
was a petty affair. Christian spirit, equal to a grain of 
mustard seed, would have strangled and buried it at once. 
The little serpent of strife had only coiled itself in two 



1 

18 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

men's hearts. They each thought that a few angry words 
were needed, by the exigency of the case. The words fell 
like fire on powder, and the fire of hate spread into other 
hearts. Instead of prayer addressed to God, they uttered 
words of wrath, suggested by the devil ; instead of the oil 
of peace, they sowed the dragon's teeth of discord. The 
quarrel spread like the plague ; it infected the whole con- 
gregation ; it descended to the children ; it hardened into 
a permanent and bitter feud ; the whole community are 
this day arrayed in parties thus commenced, parties which 
always stand on their arms, eyeing each other suspiciously, 
and which come to open collision again with every question 
which arises. Do not those old, dead fighting men speak? 
Thus must we live and speak after we are dead. Though 
no formal record of it is made on earth, it is written in 
another place. There is an infallible historian, who takes 
down in heaven's book, day by day, the exact history of 
your life, to be preserved and brought out hereafter, to 
speak for you or against you, in the great day of decision. 
The silent and mysterious historian, with pen and tablet, is 
by your side in all your business, noting down every bar- 
gain, all that you said about it, the moral character of 
the whole transaction. He stands with you in your sports, 
parties and amusements, more' swiftly and exactly than 
stenographer or telegraph writing out your words, motives, 
dispositions ; he goes with you in your solitary hours, and 
with that fixed and startling eye of his, looks right into 
your heart, and writes down all your thoughts, plans, feel- 
ings and secrets. You can not conceal any thing from him, 
you can not shake off his company. Whether you like it 
or not, without heeding your hatred or objections, he thus 
follows and writes through life. This book will be open to 
inspection at some future day. All you have said from 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 19 

childhood to death, will then be read as recorded, though 
you may wish in agony you had never said it. Your pro- 
foundest secrets, your deepest mysteries, penetrated by this 
omnipresent writer, will be all made naked and open to 
your judge. Should we not be careful, then, what we say 
and do ? 

The thought that the dead speak is most interesting to 
parents and teachers, in their work of training the young. 
Of all effects which the living man originates, those made 
on mind are the most enduring and vast. 

The unknown man who found Claudius Buchanan a stray 
lad in the streets, and introduced him to a Sabbath-school 
where he was converted, really acted on all the minds of 
all the men in England, India and America, whom Bu- 
chanan's voice or book has reached. A few years since, I 
heard an eloquent preacher address his large congregation, 
who himself had been led to Christ when a boy, by a Sab- 
bath-school teacher, long since dead. Is not that teacher 
speaking yet most effectively ? 

Parents who are bringing up a family of children, write 
a history far more enduring than ink and paper. The boys 
skulking about the yards and sheds on the Sabbath, instead 
of being in church ; the boys living in the streets and 
mingling with the foul, profane class which come out at 
nightfall like owls, and spend the evening in such polluting 
company instead of home ; are daily baptized by their par- 
ents in a moral cess-pool. In the future character of those 
boys, the dead father aud mother will speak. 

A poor wretch whom I once visited when he was dying, 
exclaimed in agony and fear : " Oh ! that I had followed 
the counsels of my mother." The words of that mother 
long since dead, were sounding in the ears of that dying 
man. When she uttered the words, they seemed perhaps to 



20 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

make as little impression as gravel -stones sown on the rock. 
She died, and the words came to life, and after forty years 
uttered themselves in voices of thunder. 

In tones of most grateful love have I heard men speak : 
" I shall never forget what my mother said to me." " If it 
had not been for my mother, I know not what would have 
become of me." "All that I am I owe to my mother." Did 
not those mothers speak, though dead ? 

We should then talk to the children in our families, 
schools, and Sabbath-school classes, as if all the minds with 
which they will ever come into contact in the whole course 
of their lives were before us. For in and through them we 
may speak with tremendous energy hereafter. Just as these 
motionless and rusty wires may be conducting noiselessly 
and unconsciously past us, a piece of news or influence from 
one city to another, which shall startle the whole com- 
munity, and affect the bargains, profits, and perhaps bank- 
ruptcy of many rich merchants ; so that child may be the 
agent through whom you may speak to millions. Impres- 
sions on mind never die. You, parents and teachers, must 
speak after you are dead. Will you speak well or ill ? 

]STo one knows what capabilities are wrapped up in the 
mind of a child, which a word of yours may bring out into 
life — as at a word from Christ, Lazarus walked from his 
grave. Even in very common material substances, most 
wonderful powers lie hid. If one had asserted three hun- 
dred years ago, that in the useless vapor crawling lazily 
out of a simmering kettle, there was wrapped up almost 
omnipotent power ; that it could snap bars of iron like thread ; 
roll out and flatten into sheets of metallic paper, huge 
masses of brass, as easily as the cook manages her dough; 
could drive ships of three thousand tons ; could weave and 
spin, and travel, and knit, and sew, and forge anchors ; be 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 21 

as docile as a lamb, and as strong as ten thousand Samsons, 
who then could have believed it ? Yet so it was. 

Or later yet, what old philosopher with all his wisdom, 
ever dreamed that in a lump of copper and zinc lay enfolded 
the lightning ? That with a little acid you could call it out 
and make it travel, write, or speak for you obediently as a 
pen travels over the paper ; that it would fly a thousand 
miles a second, and come back like a kitten at your call ? 
Yet there it was. Indeed one knows not what like miracu- 
lous wonders may yet come out of saw-dust or gravel-stones, 
as from vapor or from copper. 

Much more then, must these immortal minds you deal 
with, have folded up within them the germs of vast possi- 
bilities. These are to be found out, unfolded, trained by the 
parent and teacher, that thus he may speak after he is dead. 

When Paul was playing in the streets of Tarsus, who 
that saw him knew of the amazing energies, the courage, 
the disinterestedness of which that boy was capable ? Who 
dreamed of the future fame and influence of that little 
Jew ? 

Let us then remember as we meet our children and our 
classes, the mysterious and far-reaching causes which we 
are to put in operation ; the amazing capabilities of the 
mind on which we are to act. You address one who may 
be a missionary or a" [murderer, a profligate politician who 
may curse his country, or a statesman who shall ennoble 
and save it. A Harriet Stowe, who shall speak to a con- 
gregation of hundreds of thousands, and whose little pen 
shall strike heavier blows to knock off the slave's bonds than 
a thousand ponderous hammers — or a Fanny Wright, who 
shall decoy crowds of her sex into the slavery of sin — one 
who certainly will be an angel or a devil. Washington 
was once learning his ABC. Webster and Calhoun once 



22 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

stammered over their spelling-book. How vast the respon- 
sibilities of those who taught them ! 

They speak the loudest and the longest after they are 
dead, who make and leave impressions on mind. Take one 
case out of multitudes. Many years ago a poor wood-cutter 
in the forests of Germany, came home one evening from 
his hard toil, and found in his cottage a babe which had 
that day been presented to him. It lay there asleep, much 
like millions of infants who live and die unknown, and with 
as little result, apparently, as the millions of forest leaves 
which grow, drop off, and decay in the woods. The father 
looked lovingly on the little stranger ; though, poor as he 
was, he could not but feel with a tinge of sadness, that he 
must now work the harder to feed and clothe this new- 
comer into his family. What does one see in that cradle ? 
A germ of a human being, helpless, ignorant ; its mind all 
wrapped up in unconsciousness. What prophet shall tell 
of its future ? 

Step forward a few years. The father fears God, and 
teaches the boy to do so, though in the grotesque fashion 
that mediseval Popery enabled him to do. * The mother, 
noted in all the neighborhood for her piety and exemplary 
management of her children, taught her son all she knew 
of learning and religion. But he saw life in its rough aspect. 
His father cut wood, and his mother often carried fagots 
of it on her back for sale, that she might help out the scanty 
living of the family. Such a boy would probably help his 
mother in such a work. The mind of the boy wants learn- 
ing, but he has to get it by the hardest, for poverty com- 
pels him to beg one clay, and work to gain wherewithal to 
study the next. 

By and by, one sees in a cell in the convent at Erfurth, 
a monk. His fellow monks, lazy and sensual, care for no- 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 23 

thing but self-indulgence ; but this monk's soul has grown 
up into a desire for God's truth, struggles for it, groans for 
it, prays for it with strong crying and tears, and wears out 
his body with fastings to buy it. He that day has found 
an old Bible in the neglected library of the monastery, a 
treasure till then hidden like the gold in California. As he 
reads, the truth bursts on his mind with strange power, as 
when, of old, on black chaos, God said, Let there be light, 
and there was light. 

Our monk comes forth and finds the nations of a whole 
continent mentally dead ; like the valley of dry bones. He 
speaks. All Europe hears. They flock to him. He tears 
the scales from their eyes, knocks off the fetters from their 
minds ; as he preaches and writes, whole kingdoms are 
stirred, and the world wonders after him. Popery, which 
then sat on a throne above all earthly potentates, with its 
foot on the neck of kings ; which sat in the temple of 
God, making himself to be God : this gigantic power rises 
to crush this audacious monk, as one would tread on a 
worm — as he had trodden on other martyrs, till his gar- 
ments were wet with blood. But this monk, grasping the 
mighty battle-axe of truth, struck the monster a blow. He 
staggered and fainted. Using the same artillery of God's 
word, he battered the colossal empire of Popery till all its 
glory departed. 

The reigning Pope of that day was an infidel and sensu- 
alist ; the great men of Europe were brutes or sluggards ; 
the masses of the people were ignorant and wicked. But 
here was a man in whom the Spirit of God dwelt ; he was 
mighty through God to overturn falsehood and false 
churches, to raise all a continent out of their graves. 

All that arose out of that cradle where the little uncon- 
scious Martin Luther lay. He made impressions on mind. 



2-4 . VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

He lives and speaks now. The great men of his day have 
passed away like the cloud-shadow which flits over a sum- 
mer landscape. Imperial dynasties, which seemed able to 
bid defiance to time and power, have melted away like 
frost-work, but Luther's life and deeds are speaking and 
working yet on millions of minds. 

"Was not the child in the woodman's cottage a thing of 
vast consequence ? Had not those who trained that mind 
a work of immense responsibility ? a work for which angel 
teachers, detailed from heaven's loftiest spirits, might 
labor ? Tet that poor man and his wife were to begin to 
educate the mind which was to reign as king over the 
minds of king and people. 

Suqh a work, parents and teachers, is yours. You are 
to plant truth and make impressions on minds — on minds 
of whose latent powers and future portion and capabilities 
you know nothing, except that they are great, and may be 
almost infinite. Plant the truth ; water it with prayer ; 
cultivate it assiduously. Take every young mind to which 
you can gain access, and imbue it faithfully with God's 
truth. Tour labor shall not be in vain ; the fruit shall be 
growing long after you are dead, and speak of one who 
labored for his Lord. 

This solemn thought should ennoble and invigorate every 
effort which we make for the young. What he does, is 
done, and will stand forever an ineffaceable fact. He may 
do it rashly, wickedly, ignorantly, or rightly, but it can not 
be recalled ; its history and influence can not stop. It will 
live through all time, working good or ill. 

Suppose you stand on the side of the Andes, its gigantic 
heights uprearing themselves into the clouds, and lost 
there by their very immensity. At your feet bubbles up a 
little spring, and your eye can trace its course for a few 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 25 

rods down among the rocks. Can you tell to what it will 
grow ? Will it lose itself there ? Or shall it grow to the 
mighty Amazon, which, in the glowing language of a mo- 
dern writer, " shall form an everlasting boundary-line on 
the globe itself, and constitute the highway and wonder of 
nations ?" We see not as we stand there by the spring. 
We only know that its path is to be onward to the great 
ocean, and that its waters are there to mingle in with 
others, affecting them forever. But as you stand at the 
fountain, you can cast in poison or life-giving medicine, to 
be carried by its waters through all its course. 

So you can see but a little way into your own being and 
your own future. You only know that your influence 
shall live, and flow on, and act on other beings forever. So 
of that child, playing on your carpet, or sitting before you 
in the Sabbath-school, just beginning existence, you can 
see but a little way into his future. You know that this 
child's life is to run parallel with God's forever, and is to 
speak in various ways to other minds. At present you can 
modify the direction and character of all his future course. 
Shall it go on like a poisoned black stream down to hell ? 
or shall it flow on like the river of life, conveying health 
and joy wherever it flows, and terminating at last in the 
ocean of joy and bliss before the throne of God? 

The truth before us invests with responsibility, and even 
with grandeur ', the deeds of every man's life. His action 
and non-action alike speak. The sun, high in the hea- 
vens, must shine — but if weary of that work, he blots him- 
self out of existence, he produces yet vaster results, for he 
leaves the planetary bodies in the circle in which he moves, 
to awful and everlasting darkness, and to grind themselves 
to pieces in the loss of the great centre of gravitation. So 
if a man live and act among men, he speaks ; if l:e buiy 



26 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

himself in a desert, or kill himself, he produces even more 
impression. 

A man who lived in one of the towns in this State, 
wealthy, respectable and temperate, was asked in the early 
stage of the temperance reformation to sign the temperance 
pledge. He refused, sneered at the request and the pledge, 
ridiculed those who signed it, boasted of his entire temper- 
ance, and his ability to take just as much as was requisite 
and beneficial, and no more. To him it was an insignifi- 
cant matter ; it never occurred to him that he was acting 
on a great scale. He did continue temperate, and died so. 
But in all this he was speaking loudly to a family of sons, 
who could follow his example in refusing to sign the pledge, 
but found that what was sufficient for a calm old man, was 
not enough for iiery and excitable youth. They became 
drunkards ; his grand-children the same ; the husbands of 
his daughters were drunkards ; and the whole family ran 
out in poverty and wretchedness. On what a grand scale 
was that plain country farmer acting ! 

It is a fact w T ell to be noted, that the men and women, 
now or recently most potent in influence, making the deep- 
est mark in our country, were once in that place, which 
some think, most strangely, to be a very insignificant place, 
our country public schools. Perhaps the teachers them- 
selves thought their work to be dull and insignificant ; the 
people perhaps thought it so unimportant, as to be well 
paid for at two dollars a week and board. But while train- 
ing such minds, w T as not their work one of surpassing gran- 
deur? worthy of talent, energy, and prayer? 

Scattered about in our families and common schools, 
somewhere, are the germs of the men and women who are 
to take rank for good or ill in the next generation. Some 
body, then, has now a work to do of grand import in its 
bearings on the future. 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. '27 

That mau was very insignificantly employed, who, in 
the year 1767, was tending sheep on one of the wide plains 
of Wiltshire. For thirty years his daily routine of occupa- 
tion was as dull and obscure as work well could be ; he 
was to sit and watch the sheep by day, and drive them 
home at night. If any man could say that his deeds had 
no grandeur and importance in them — were poor little acts 
of no sort of consequence — it was this man. 

Yet who has not heard of " the Shepherd of Salisbury 
Plain" ? Even Bonaparte is hardly better known. Certainly 
such great men as William Pitt and Robert Walpole, who 
lived at about the same time with this poor shepherd, are 
not more widely known among the present generation who 
speak the English language, though the class of minds be 
different. Pitt and Walpole seemed to be doing great 
things. The shepherd was so doing. His simple memoirs 
speak. How many of us — and probably millions — have 
been spoken to reprovingly, when we were complaining of 
the weather, by the flash of his mild and beautiful remark 
on our minds : " The weather will be such as pleases me, for 
the weather will be such as pleases God, and what pleases 
him always pleases me." Who has not been spoken to, 
when that shepherd took his only and last piece of money, 
given him for his personal comfort, and paid an old debt, 
when he had nothing but coarse bread, potatoes and salt to 
eat, saying : " We dread a debt next to sin, and indeed in 
some cases a debt is a sin." Who that has read of his 
family, trained to intelligence and religion, when so many 
rich men's sons, good men's sons, and ministers' sons, grow 
up spoilt and spoilers — of such gratitude, when, in his deep 
poverty, he received a gift of two new blankets, that he 
feared he was to have all his good things in this life — has 
not heard most instructive voices coming therefrom, re- 



28 VOICE OF THE DEAD. 

proving him for his negligences, stupidity and ingratitude. 
That good old shepherd, with his patched coat, shirt coarse 
as sail-cloth and white as snow, with lips distilling words of 
heavenly wisdom, will yet speak to millions. And the 
press and the translators having given him both wings and 
gift of tongues, he speaks on the banks of the Ganges aud 
of the Lake Oroomiah, places of which in his ignorance he 
never heard. His family prayers, his humble contentment, 
his conscientiousness of payment and work, his daily round 
of duty, converted all his actions into deeds of holy obedi- 
ence to God, acted out on a theatre where millions could 
see and hear. 

These facts should therefore lead us to conscientiousness 
and care in our daily lives. One very strong temptation 
to do wrong, lies in the secret feeling that the occasion is a 
very trivial one, or at least that no one will know it. No 
one know it ! Oh ! how many have said or thought so to 
their own ruin. 

As to trivial acts or occasions, you can't find one or make 
one. What seemed more trivial than the little daily acts 
of the Shepherd of Salisbury Plain ; his devout thankful- 
ness that he had salt for his potatoes, and his pity for the 
poor who could get no salt ; his family devotions ; his lit- 
tle boys and girls, taught industry and piety ; his pure and 
noble thoughts and sayings buried down there in the leaky 
old hovel ; and whom nobody knew but his dog, his sheep, 
and neighbors poor as himself? How little he thought 
that India, England and America would hear him speak ? 
Are you more obscure than he was ? If on the thousand 
petty occasions of his life, he had not thus nobly served 
God, he would have cut out all the influence now flowing 
from his speaking deeds. 

We are exhorted to fidelity in the Bible on this very 



VOICE OF THE DEAD. 29 

ground, because we are compassed about with so great a 
cloud of witnesses. God sees us, angels see us, devils see 
us, our departed friends see us, and in ways unknown to 
us, God will make our lives speak through all future time. 
Let us then always act under the stirring and ennobling 
truth, that we are engaged in deeds of vast moment and of 
untold grandeur in their results. 



30 GOSPEL PREACHING. 



II. 

GOSPEL P BEACHING. 

" Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not 
to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth." — 2 Timothy 2:15. 

What is the true province of the minister of the Gospel ? 
For what purpose, or class of duties, is he selected, solemnly 
set apart, and at no small expense sustained ? 

There are two radically different theories, or replies, one 
or the other of which is found in all our various ecclesiasti- 
cal systems. 

One theory maintains that the minister^ or clergyman, 
or priest, is to govern / he is not so much in the church, as 
over the church ; not one of the constituted organs by which 
the church orderly carries out its will, as a distinct class or 
caste, by virtue of ordination, clothed with authority more 
or less stringent to bind the church. 

This system is developed in full maturity in the Papal 
Church, in all the old decayed churches of Eastern Europe 
and Asia. But the germs of this theory are found in nearly 
all our Protestant denominations, where many an ecclesi- 
astical assemblage thinks itself erected into a lordship over 
God's heritage. 

Congregationalism has rejected these novelties, and gone 
back to the good old paths, the scriptural apostolic idea. 
The minister is simply a teacher ; one of the members of 
the church ; selected by members, on the ground of his 
talents, piety, education and general capabilities, to in- 



GOSPEL PEE ACHING. 31 

struct them in religious truth ; to oversee, and aid them in 
their religious progress. He has no power or right of 
government, not a jot or tittle. 

It would be interesting to trace out the bearings of these 
two great ecclesiastical ideas, and the immense advantage 
thereby given to Congregationalism, in retaining truth and 
vitality. But I must refrain. 

There is another question : How is this teacher to teach 
what topics come legitimately within the range of his 
instructions % ' To this momentous inquiry, many are accus- 
tomed very flippantly to quote two beautiful but sadly 
misquoted texts : " Preach the Gospel" — " Know nothing 
but Jesus Christ and him crucified." Meaning, by this, 
the statement and discussion of theological truth, specially 
the truth connected with the great central fact of the 
Atonement, with the most studious evasion of all practical 
application of them to the momentous questions of actual 
life. There may be oppressions going on, crushing mil- 
lions ; evils, thick and poisonous as adders and vipers, may 
be coiling around our youth ; bad principles and politics 
may be eating away, like cancers, the very heart of reli- 
gion ; but the teacher of religion must meddle with none 
of these things — he must preach the Gospel. The Cross is 
to be his theme, far above all the agitations of the day. 
The men whose views are broad and comprehensive, the 
real conservatives, who can see and apply the manifold re- 
lations of truth to all man's duties and spheres, to the ever- 
changing emergencies of life, are charged by the micro- 
scopic man of one idea, with not preaching the Gospel. 

Thus, I am led to the question, " What is it to preach 
the Gospel ?" I will answer this question, by giving you 
the processes by which I have been led to my conclusions. 

The nature of the case unfolds to me the true answer. 



32 GOSPEL PREACHING. 

It seems perfectly obvious that the Gospel is the whole 
system of truth and precept taught by Christ, of which the 
Cross — free salvation through the atonement of Christ, is 
the great central fact. Unfolding, therefore, to the con- 
gregation the whole of that system, or any part, in due 
measure and place, is preaching the Gospel. The texts, 
" Be not the slave of man," " Hide the outcasts — betray 
not him that wandereth," are as really a part of the Gospel, 
in their proper subordinate place, as the text, " Christ died 
for our sins." 

Again : " All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, 
and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, 
for instruction in righteousness." . It is plain, therefore, 
that though one part of the Book may be more important 
than another, though its truths stand in the relation of 
central and subordinate, yet no one idea, however import- 
ant, constitutes the Scripture. The preacher's range of 
topics is to be as wide and varied as the topics on which 
God has instructed us. If doctrine is here stated, we are 
to unfold it ; if law is given, we are to explain and apply 
it ; if politics are taught, we are to give instructions in 
them ; if wrath is denounced, we are to make known that. 
In preaching on all these topics, we are imitating God and 
preaching the Gospel, unless we take the ground that the 
Bible does not declare the Gospel, because it has a com- 
prehensive variety of truth. 

The mode of Christ s instructions teaches me how to 
preach the Gospel. I find that he had no stereotyped 
topics, or mode of preaching. The only law of uniformity 
was ever-changing adaptedness to the various audiences 
which he addressed. At ISTazareth, he preached the doc- 
trine of divine sovereignty, and so enraged the people, 
that they tried to kill him. Before a company of Pharisees, 



GOSPEL PKE ACHING. 33 

he preached that sermon of wrath in Matthew 23, full 
of denunciation, and exploding in such epithets as vipers, 
hypocrites, and whited sepulchres. To one audience he 
delivered the Sermon on the Mount — a calm statement of 
Christian morals, and of God's law. The rich young man, 
who was self-righteous, yet anxious to be saved, he told to 
keep the commandments ; to ISTicodemus, he preached the 
doctrine of regeneration ; to the woman of Samaria, he un- 
folded the requirements of spiritual worship ; to the penitent 
adulteress, he spoke forgiveness. To the disciples, he 
sometimes uttered severe rebuke, as in the words, "Get thee 
behind me, Satan," addressed to Peter ; then, at the last 
supper, he gave a discourse of inimitable tenderness. At 
the grave of Lazarus, he wept ; at the sturdy, detestable 
Pharisees, he hurled his rebuke, like a storm of red-hot 
shot. 

Christ took a wide range of topics ; and the law of 
selection was drawn from the character, sins, and inward 
state of the audience whom he addressed. 

He, then, preaches the Gospel, who does the same. 

The style of the Apostles' preaching may guide the 
modern preacher. They studied theology, under a teacher 
quite as competent as any modern theological professor. 
Their preaching reveals the same law of selection, so 
manifest in the example of Christ. At Pentecost, Peter 
preached to an assembly of Christ's murderers. He argued 
the Messiahship of Christ, and their great guilt. Stephen 
preached to a band of persecutors ; and his sermon illus- 
trated and applied the turbulence and rebelliousness of the 
Jewish race. Paul at Lystra preached to vulgar heathen, 
and argued the sin and absurdity of idolatry, from the light 
of nature. At Athens he had an audience of cultivated 
heathen, and to them he preached of the existence of God, 



34 GOSPEL PREACHING. 

and the judgment to come. To Felix, a profligate Roman 
governor, he preached temperance and judgment. To 
Agrippa, a pliable Jewish king, he spake of the prophets, 
and of conversion. Freely thus they range over the whole 
field of truth, beautifully selecting appropriate truth for all 
classes of men. So they preached the Gospel. 

In their epistles, too, we perceive the same law. To the 
Romans, Paul wrote an elaborate theological treatise, full 
of doctrine ; to the Corinthians, he wrote about their local 
difficulties, their litigation, their eating meats, dining witli 
heathen, the duties of husband and wife, of public female 
addresses, of church discipline. The Galatians he rebukes ; 
the Philippians he commends. To Timothy, he unfolds 
the duties of the bishop ; to the Hebrews, he interprets 
their symbolic ritual. James says nothing of doctrine, but 
argues stoutly for good works. John argues against heretics, 
and enforces brotherly love. So they preached Christ and 
him crucified. 

This general fact is clear in the preaching of these our 
great predecessors and models ; they discussed the sins of 
that age, and the topics then interesting the public mind. 
Hypocrisy was the Pharisees' sin; Christ grappled that. 
The national sin of the Jews was spiritual pride, founded 
jTi their temple, their supposed favoritism with heaven ; 
Christ threw himself in direct conflict with this, and lost 
his life — for this conflict exasperated his enemies to murder. 
At Pentecost, at Athens, with Felix, at Lystra, Corinth, 
and Ephesus, the live sins then and there setting them- 
selves up against God, were unshrinkingly attacked. 

The early Christian churches were very much divided 
on the questions, whether. the ceremonial law was binding, 
whether converts should be circumcised, whether certain 
meats were allowable. These were exciting subjects, even 



GOSPEL PREACHING. 35 

convulsing some churches into parties and quarrels. What 
did our ancient preachers ? Shun these topics ? Did their 
Gospel preaching exclude these delicate questions, about 
which Christian men differed ? They selected them ; dis- 
cussed them ; called conventions ; passed resolutions ; and 
preached Christ, by preaching Christ's truth on these very 
matters. The Corinthians were quarrelsome, Paul rebuked 
them. Some denied the resurrection, and some thought 
Christ's second coming was near ; some were lazy, and would 
not work. Paul came right down into practical life, collared 
and fought those every-day errors and sins; and not by 
unmeaning generalities, theological statements, and elegant 
allusions, but with the robust blows of outspoken men, 
bade them get out of God's church and God's world. 

It is sometimes said that Christ and his apostles preached 
general principles, and left them to work out the regenera- 
tion of society ; and modern preachers are to do the same. 
But hardly could a statement be framed more diverse from 
the truth. True, they preached doctrines comprehensive 
and glorious ; but they also applied them to the questions, 
emergencies, and social relations then existing. They not 
only unfolded the applications of the Gospel to those rela- 
tions which were permanent, as those of husbands and 
wives, parents and children, masters and servants, rulers 
and citizens, but, in minuteness of detail, descended to 
peculiarities of that day — to politeness to strangers at 
church, to proper behavior at the Lord's table, to the pro- 
priety of long and short hair for the different sexes, to 
excessive female ornament, to any matter, in short, then 
connected with personal religion. 

Political duties, or the duties of the citizen, were repeat- 
edly and minutely enforced. The Old Testament is very 
largely occupied with these topics as applicable to the Jews. 



36 GOSPEL PREACHING. 

In Christ's time the Roman Empire was consolidated into 
one vast despotism. The citizen had no rights nor influence 
in the government ; no way of relief under oppression, but 
by force # and blood. His political duties in such circum- 
stances are explicitly detailed. " Fear God, and honor the 
King" — "Let every soul be subject unto the higher 
powers" — "Ye must needs be subject for conscience' 
sake." 

General principles only ! No preachers more fully and 
fearlessly applied truth to all the existing relations of men. 

Emergencies and relations now exist which were un- 
known in those ancient times. ~No system of schools, or 
means of education, like those in our country, existed in 
Judea or in Rome. We then, as Christians of this day, sus- 
tain a relation, which those old Christians never dreamed 
of. Christian duty to schools, is not specifically detailed in 
the Bible. 

The art of printing was then unknown. Books were so 
enormously dear that only the rich could buy even a few 
small volumes. Papers had no existence. The Bible of 
course, has no precepts to the Christians of Rome or Corinth 
about the circulation of religious books, tracts and papers. 
But around us, the press pours out a constant deluge of 
publications good and bad, and at the most trifling cost. 
There are duties thence resulting to modern Christians, 
which the Bible does not specifically lay down. 

Modern voluntary societies, unknown to the apostolic age, 
involve us in new relations, and originate new questions of 
duty. Of the Temperance Society with its pledge, the 
Apostles were as ignorant as of affairs in progress on the 
fixed stars. Must I join it? help it? or oppose it? The 
Bible answers no such questions. - Its precepts relate only 
to emergencies and relations existing eighteen hundred 



GOSPEL PREACHING- 6t 

years ago. The Missionary Society with its yearly demand 
for money then unknown, now places us in such a position 
that we must answer the question, Give or not give ? But 
the Bible has nothing to say about Missionary Societies. 

Our position as citizens is widely different from that of 
primitive Christians, involving responsibilities and tempta- 
tions of which they were profoundly ignorant. The citizen 
then was a mere cipher, without vote or power. The law- 
making power was a force over him, not an emanation 
from him. However profligate the action of government, 
the citizen could no more control it, than the winds which 
swept down the Appenines. But we, es citizens, have all 
power. We make the law-makers ; our votes decide 
whether sin, ambition, and corruption shall stand at the 
helm of state, steering us directly for the rocks on which 
other nations have gone to pieces ; or whether justice, wis- 
dom, and peace shall characterize our national policy. 

Thus I might set forth the manifold new relations, which 
have been gathering around modern Christians, involving 
momentous duties, and the possibility of very heinous sins. 
Meanwhile many old questions, which were of vast moment 
in apostolic times, such as circumcision and proscribed 
meats, and which the Bible discusses at length, are ob- 
solete. 

Now we as preachers, are in these altered circumstances, 
and how are we to preach the Gospel ? Have we no duties 
in these new relations ? Have moral obligation and pulpit 
instruction no place here, because the Bible has no specific 
mention of these new duties ? The previous illustrations 
answer these questions. We find this great fact in apostolic 
and Scripture preaching. They set forth the great truths 
of religion, of which Christ was the Centre, and applied 
these truths to circumstances and relations then existing. 



38 GOSPEL PREACHING. 

Thus we have reached our fundamental law of pulpit duty. 
We are to set forth the great truths of religion, making 
Christ the great central point, and apply these truths to the 
circumstances and relations now existing. 

Of this law take two illustrations. The primitive churches 
were agitated by the question, u Is it right to eat certain 
kinds of meat ?" They disputed, they quarrelled. Some 
would eat what they liked ; others were grieved at 
this course, and great evils were the result. In the epistle 
to the Romans and elsewhere, Paul argues and decides the 
matter substantially as follows : In itself it is right to eat 
those meats, and right not to eat them. But the law of 
Christian love demands a regard for each other's welfare 
and sanctification. Such results will be promoted by absti- 
nence from such meats ; or to state the conclusion in Paul's 
own language : " I will eat no meat while the world stand- 
eth, lest I make my brother to offend." 

JSTow, that particular question is obsolete, or rather it has 
been long since settled. JSTo one dreams of doubt on the 
matter. But a new question has arisen ; some persons use 
alcoholic drinks, some do not ; there is no small grief, dis- 
sension and evil, resulting from the use of alcoholic drinks. 
What is the preacher's duty? "Why, let the question 
alone ; the Bible says nothing about the matter," say the 
shallow interpreters, with only one idea. The Bible does 
say a great deal about the matter, or rather of the general 
principle, and its ancient application. The modern preacher 
is to take the general principle, and give it application to 
modern circumstances. Even allowing that alcoholic 
drinks, like certain meats, are in themselves rightfully used, 
yet the law of love, seeking the good and peace of the 
Church and the welfare of society, requires abstinence, 
therefore abstain. 



GOSPEL PKEACHING. 39 

Again, the ancient Christians gave instruction in political 
duties to the Christians of their day ; political duties bind- 
ing on them, in their circumstances. The modern preacher 
is therefore to give instruction to the men of his day in 
their political duties. The modern citizen with his right to 
vote, entangled in a complex network of parties, surrounded 
by demagogues ready to barter truth and justice for votes, 
and stooping to the basest compliances, this vote of his, 
aiding to decide the great matters of war, temperance, 
slavery and trade ; is to be taught in a far different 
manner, from the powerless abject cipher, the subject of 
Roman despotism. 

Thus we imitate apostolic preaching. So they preached 
Christ ; to the Pharisee, rebuking false doctrine and hypoc- 
risy ; to the murderers of Christ urging repentance ; to 
kings and governors, holding up to the light their indivi- 
dual sins, and souls' peril; to philosophic heathen, giving 
philosophic argument. Every where you find them in the 
thickest tumult of human life, claiming submission there to 
God. 

We, as preachers, are to study diligently God's truth ; 
we are to examine the sins, errors, characteristics, perils, 
and responsibilities of the community ; and apply the truth 
to the whole life, the business and the relations of man. 

The preachei^s work is a very difficult one. If religion 
consisted in the intellectual admiration of God, expressed 
in the outward forms of worship ; if the minister were 
simply an officiating functionary in the ceremonials of the 
church ; if his duty terminated in the graceful performance 
of the formalities of worship, or in the delivery of a Sab- 
bath theological lecture ; his work would be easy. But 
Christianity is a system of law and truth over man, and the 
preacher is to expound and apply it. He is to do it with 



40 GOSPEL PREACHING. 

the certainty, that all the enraged sins, stung by exposure 
and rebuke, will be on scent like bloodhounds for his ruin, 
and yet all eager for the preaching of the Gospel. 

The men of one idea call for the preaching of the Gos- 
pel ; the men implicated in the use and sale of intoxicating 
drinks denounce fanatical temperance lectures ; the liber- 
tine, whose vileness is unveiled by an application of the 
seventh commandment, is seized with deep interest in the 
purity of the public mind, with fears that such preaching 
suggests improper ideas, and loudly demands the preach- 
ing of the Gospel. The demagogue, the corrupt politician, 
the timid, one-idea Christian, are alarmed at the exposure 
of political enormities, and the application of divine law 
to votes, parties, and acts of Congress, and as if anxious for 
a revival of religion, call out for the preaching of the Gos- 
pel. The man of conservative and comprehensive mind, 
has a work of appalling difficulty. He must sometimes 
walk, as it were, shod with iron, and with a sharp two- 
edged sword coming out of his mouth. Sin must be in- 
exorably dealt with : sin in business, sin in the family, sin 
in politics, sin in the church, sin at the ballot-box, sin in 
prayer, sin in fashion and sin in vulgarity, sin well dressed 
and sin in rags, sins of government, and sins of men in 
power. 

It is much easier for each one, with a single idea, to 
avoid these unwelcome duties. The one-idea man will dis- 
cuss nothing but technical theology ; and while toothless 
and aimless at living and soul-destroying sins, is bold at old 
dead heresies ; he will thrust his sword into the corpse of 
some old Babylonish or antediluvian sinner, and play the 
mouse before the devil, as he puts on the living forms of 
rich or political profligacy ; muzzles his lips when he utters 
God's message ; is dumb in the presence of a powerful sin, 



GOSPEL PREACHING. 41 

and thinks lie is on the brink of that terrible land of ultra- 
ism, if the temper of a respectable sin be ruffled. 

But is not the preacher to be a man of peace ? to win 
souls ? to draw them by love ? Most assuredly. He is not 
to quarrel, nor rebuke in anger. But he is not to seek 
peace by speaking the language of Ashdod, so that men 
can not know whether he is on the side of right or wrong ; 
he is not to put torture and pulleys on the truth, that it may 
be cramped or stretched so as not to interfere with sin ; nor 
is he to win men by disguising the truth. 

The difficulty is increased by the necessity of coming into 
collision with exciting and delicate topics. Preachers of 
old did so. Idolatry w -as an agitating subject; enshrined 
in men's hearts and interests ; so connected with the state, 
that one who attacked the peculiar institution of idol wor- 
ship, was an enemy to the state. But did- they avoid the 
subject ? preach generalities ? leave their opinions on the 
subject of idolatry in doubt? By no means. This giant 
sin, ruling the whole world, they attacked with the battle- 
axe of truth, till it fell like Dagon, though tumult and ex- 
citement roared around the process. 

What topic more exciting to the Jew than the perpetuity 
of his own adored temple and national privileges? To 
assail them, was a stab at his life. They would mob and 
murder the man who laid a finger on these. But this 
matter stood right in the way of the Gospel, and the ancient 
preacher drove his ploughshare directly through it, of 
course risking the agitation and incidental evils sure to 
follow. But such a work it is very difficult to do boldly, 
yet lovingly, wisely, and successfully. The modern preacher 
must do it. Surely you do not wish him to rake out of 
their graves old dead questions about which nobody cares, 
and elaborately prepare on such themes a sermon for im- 



42 GOSPEL PREACHING. 

mortal beings, who must be saved or lost, according as they 
act in present relations. The question whether one might 
eat meat ceremonially unclean, pork for instance, was an 
intensely interesting question in Paul's day ; it convulsed 
the churches. Therefore Paul wrote and preached about 
it, amid great agitation. Shall we dig up that old matter 
and re-argue it, because it is in the Bible, and because no 
excitement will follow ? The principle involved in that 
discussion is of inestimable value, as showing how Paul 
applied truth to the exigencies of his day, and how we are 
to do likewise. 

The preacher's object is not to keep people amused, or 
asleep ; but to lead them to act, and to act rightly, in the 
relations and circumstances in which they are placed. 

When the progress of society has brought men into new 
relations, and the public mind is interested in questions of 
doctrine and duty thence arising, and men are asking for 
light, then is the very time for the preacher to instruct. 
When men are doing wrong, very wrong, wrong on a large 
scale, and defend each other in it, then is the time to en- 
force inflexibly the supremacy of God's truth. The preacher 
not doing so, is like the engineer who should ascend the 
locomotive when the tire was out, the water frozen in the 
boilers, and the ponderous machine motionless, and keep 
diligent watch on the lumbering mass of dead iron; but 
when the fires were up, the steam accumulating, and the 
great motive power was thundering along the track, with 
resistless force for good or ill, should jump off, because 
the machine was excited ! 

But, depend upon it, if the preacher neglect his duty ; 
if he refuse to discuss the great questions which concern 
the present age, the living man ; if the pulpit be drowsy, 
timid, or ignorant ; other avenues to the public mind will 



GOSPEL PREACHING. 43 

be open, false guides will offer their services, or true men, 
out of the pulpit, will give men the light they want : and 
in either ease, the pulpit will come to be deemed an obso- 
lete institution, sustained as matter of habit, but not re- 
spected as one of the living forces of the world. Men love 
argument and earnestness on matters of great moment to 
them, and will have it : they should ever find it in the 
preacher of the Gospel. 

Why was the living preacher placed in the pulpit f 
Why was not a Bible merely placed here, and with it a 
reader simply? Then he could give from these inspired 
and infallible pages the pure Gospel. The preacher then 
could make no mistake, when all his work would be to 
read to you God's word. Why, instead, is a fallible man 
put here, with all his weaknesses and sins, to utter his own 
words and thoughts? Our Saviour has told ns : " That he 
may bring out of his treasure things new and old." But 
how new f A new revelation ? additions to the Bible ? 
new forms of philosophy ? By no means : but new appli- 
cations of truth to the new and ever-changing relations of 
life and society, into which the current of events is throw- 
ing us. No hook could embrace all these relations, and all 
duties thence resulting through all time, without a magni- 
tude beyond price and perusal. But Christ and his apostles 
preached great truths, applied them to the men and cir- 
cumstances of that day, wrote them in a book, put that 
book into the hands of the living preacher, and put him 
into a pulpit. !Not, surely, that he should be a mere 
reader or automaton, but that he should understand his 
Bible and his times, and bring out this old truth, and make 
it new, by its application to all new circumstances. 

Brethren and friends : I come to you as a teacher of re- 
ligious truth ; not a priest, to offer sacrifices for you ; not a 



4:4: GOSPEL PREACHING. 

pope, to govern you ; not with power, to control your doc- 
trine or discipline ; not connected with hierarchies, bishops, 
or any ecclesiastical machinery to manage you. But I am 
a fellow-citizen, selected by yourselves, to employ my time 
and talents in aiding you to understand the will of God. 
For my utterances, I am accountable only to God ; for 
your reception or rejection of my message, you too are 
accountable only to God. I pay you the profound est 
respect, when I freely unfold to you the applications of 
divine truth, however contrary to your interests, opinions, 
and sins ; and take for granted that the freedom of the 
pulpit will please you best. Having built a pulpit, and 
put a man there, you wish him to be a man, and with 
manly faithfulness declare to you the whole counsel of 
Gocl. At that great day of gathering, when you and I 
shall stand at the bar of God, may I be welcomed as a 
faithful servant, and enter, with you, into the joy of our 
Lord. 



POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 45 



III. 

POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 

(written in 1847.) 
" God is Judge."— Psalm 50 : 6. 

The sacred writers apply various epithets or titles to 
God. He is called Father, King, Lord, Rock, Refuge, 
Tower, Shepherd, Judge, Saviour, Habitation, Potentate ; 
and by numerous other descriptive names. These epithets 
condense into a single word a vast amount of truth relative 
to the attributes and works of God. But a misapprehension 
of their meaning and design, has led many readers of the 
Bible into very serious mistakes. My design in the follow- 
ing remarks will be, to point out two of these mistakes, 
and endeavor to ascertain the value of the logic by which 
they are sustained. 

I. The term Father, is very frequently applied to God, 
in the Scriptures. By this word, is more beautifully 
shadowed forth the affectionate regard of God for us, and 
the confiding love with which we may address him, than 
by any abstract terms which we could employ. But the 
word is evidently figurative : for, of course, the true and 
literal father of each of us, is a human being. But some 
persons, forgetting this fact, proceed to reason, or draw in- 
ferences, from its literal signification : they found doctrines 
as to what God will or will not do, on the mere epithet 
father ; or on the fatherly love which is ascribed to him. 
They maintain that what a human father would not do to 
his child, our heavenly Father will not to us. 
5*" 



46 POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 

It is very common to hear an argument put somewhat in 
the manner following : " Would you, a father, if your 
child had committed a fault, or a great many faults, punish 
him year after year, without cessation ? Will God, then, 
our heavenly Father, so much better than w T e are, punish 
his children terribly or endlessly ? Had your child gone 
into the water contrary to your orders, and should he 
while there get into imminent peril, would you not rescue 
him from that or any other danger, if possible—though in- 
curred by his own fault and willfulness ? Will not our 
heavenly Father then rescue us, all of us, from the conse- 
quences of our sins, though we have carelessly or wilfully 
and contrary to his commands, fallen into them ? So in 
relation to the penalty of sin in a future world, it is inferred 
that our heavenly Father will do nothing to the sinner 
there, which a human father would not do to his child." 
On such, or similar reasonings, are founded some men's 
theological opinions and everlasting hopes. 

Let us examine this plausible reasoning in the light of 
facts. Would any of you that is a father, deliberately 
drown your child % Had he offended you ever so often, so 
much, or so causelessly, could you form and execute a plan 
for getting him to the river, and pushing him in ? Could 
you calmly stand on the bank and see him struggling in 
agony with the current, and hear his last fearful cry, as he 
sank in the deep waters ? No — the deed is too monstrous 
to be thought of. But our heavenly Father did that very 
thing, on a vast and terrible scale. A world of sinners, 
millions of them, He deliberately drowned. He planned 
and wrought out the deluge for that express purpose ; and 
calmly looked on, as the cry of millions in the last despair 
reached his ear. Again ; would you put your child into 
the fire, and so put him to death ? Could any considera- 



POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 47 

tion induce you to do this? Had his undutifulcess, ingra- 
titude or profligacy been ever so great, would you cast 
him into a burning fiery furnace ? But our heavenly 
Father actually has done it. Upon Sodom and Gomorrah 
he rained down fire from heaven, to consume them. He 
saw all the horrors of that scene when men, women and 
children, by thousands, writhed and suffered in the unut- 
terable agonies of that most horrible of all deaths, by burn- 
ing alive. Yet our heavenly Father interposed not for their 
rescue — nay, he kindled the flames, and deliberately thrust 
his creatures into the fire. 

Further : if your child were hungry, would you not feed 
him ? If he were starving, would you deny a crust of 
bread ? Even had he been a bad child — a very bad child 
— had he insulted and wronged you even outrageously ; 
but were he at your door in a cold night, with a winter's 
storm beating on him, with no clothing but rags, could 
you deliberately sit in your room and allow him to perish 
there ? when too, your house was filled with plenty, and 
you could supply all his wants without the slightest possi- 
ble trouble? Yet that is just what our heavenly Father is 
doing at this very moment, and has been doing all winter. 
Multitudes in Ireland have died from cold and starvation. 
There have been miserable cabins, in which were parents 
and children piled up together in filthy straw, in the hope of 
communicating or keeping a little warmth : these wretches 
had been without a morsel of food for days. Men, gaunt 
and emaciated with hunger, while working on the roads, 
for the paltriest wages, have dropped down dead at their 
work from mere starvation. Thousands have died ; and 
thousands more are dying by the torturing process of 
famine. Our heavenly Father sees all this. He foresaw 
it last summer, as the insidious disease was at work on 



48 POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 

the potato crop. With the most perfect ease, without the 
slightest delay or trouble, he could have checked that 
disease. But he did not. He could now, instantly, pour 
plenty into every cabin in Ireland, with infinitely greater 
ease than you can take a dollar from your pocket. But 
he does not. He allows these fearful sufferings, the very 
recital of which make us sick and sad, to go on. 

Once more : what father would use such language as 
this to his children : " I will tread you in my anger, and 
trample you in my fury ; your blood shall be sprinkled on 
my garments, for the day of vengeance is in my heart." 
We should esteem him a monster or a maniac, who should 
use such threatenings, whatever provocation he might have 
received. Yet this is the very language which our 
heavenly Father has used to his disobedient children. 

Without additional statements, these facts show how 
fallacious is that mode of reasoning, which infers that God, 
our heavenly Father, will not do to his creatures, what we 
as fathers would not do to our children. For we see as a 
matter of fact, that our heavenly Father has done, and is 
doing, things which human fathers would not do ; and 
which it would be the height of wickedness, and even 
blasphemy for them to do. What then ? Are we to infer 
that God acts cruelly or arbitrarily or unreasonably ? 
Are we to doubt his perfect wisdom and love? By no 
means. But we are to doubt and deny the force and logic 
of all that reasoning which infers that God will or will not 
do certain things to sinners, because a father will or will 
not do certain things to his children. 

The proper mode of reasoning, in my view, is this. We 
take for granted a truth and a fact — the truth, that God is 
perfectly wise and perfectly benevolent : the fact, that he 
inflicts or allows wide and appalling evils on mankind. I 



POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 49 

assume these, because I have not here time to argue them, 
and because no one will probably dispute them. 

I then observe that different beings sustain different re- 
lations to each other; and the same being may sustain 
several and diverse relations to another individual ; and that 
in these relations very different courses of conduct are 
proper, or rather, are imperatively required. Thus, for in- 
stance, the relation which exists between a father and a 
son, is very different from that which exists between a 
judge and a criminal. Both the father and the judge are 
required to act wisely and benevolently ; but wisdom and 
benevolence require very different courses of conduct in 
these two relations. It is right, it is absolutely the duty of 
the judge, to do things which it would be utterly wrong 
for the father to do. If the criminal is convicted of rob- 
bery or arson, the judge must consign him to prison, and 
to all the gloomy consequences of imprisonment, for many 
years, or for life. Benevolence requires this. But would 
it be right or benevolent for a father to build a jail on his 
farm, and there put his child to solitary labor for one year, 
or ten years, for disobedience to his parental commands ? 

The reason is obvious. The judge, in his treatment of 
the criminal, and in the relation which he sustains to him, 
is bound to regard other interests, and greater interests than 
those of the criminal himself. The law was made to pro- 
tect the rights of all the members of the community — -it 
guarantees to all life, property and safety. The penalty 
was affixed, to enforce and sustain law ; and without pen- 
alty, law is a cobweb. When, therefore, the judge comes 
to act, the question for him to decide is not, " What course 
will be most pleasant for this robber ? will he prefer a fine 
or imprisonment ? will a confinement in the penitentiary, 
be agreeable to him, or conducive to his happiness ?" But, 



50 POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 

" AVhat penalty and what mode of treatment, do the good 
of the community and the proper support of law, demand ?" 
Wisdom and love require the judge to be influenced by 
such considerations. On these grounds, the treatment of 
the criminal will be very different, and benevolence re- 
quires that it should be very different, from what it would 
be if he regarded only the pleasure of the guilty and con- 
demned man ; very different from that of a father towards 
his child. These statements seem to be obvious and even 
self-evident. 

But there are cases, in which both of these relations may 
exist in the same person. The father may be also the 
judge ; and the son may be the criminal. These persons 
sustain each to the other two distinct relations. As the 
father and judge saw his own son a criminal at the bar — 
the feelings of the father would prompt a different course 
from the duties of the judge. As a father, he would feel 
the deepest commiseration for his son in those circum- 
stances, and would show that pity in every appropriate 
way. But if the evidence were clear, and the guilt unde- 
niable, he would feel the duty imperative, to pronounce 
the sentence of the law, and consign the criminal to prison. 

In these cases, it is plain that we can not reason from 
what a father does, or desires to do, and infer that the judge 
will do the same. It would not be good logic to say : 
" Fathers do not put their children to jail for disobedience, 
therefore a judge, equally wise and benevolent as the 
father, will not send a criminal to prison for violating law." 
We understand perfectly that the office and duties of the 
father and the judge are widely different ; and wisdom and 
benevolence demand in one, what would be absolutely 
wrong in the other. 

ISTow, I apprehend that forgetfulness of these obvious 



POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 51 

principles, has led to that mistaken logic, so common in 
the mouths of certain religionists : that God will not do to 
sinners, what a father will not do to his child. True, God 
is our Father ; he has provided for our wants, and cherish- 
es an affectionate interest in our welfare, and showers upon 
us innumerable favors ; for such, I suppose to be the figur- 
ative meaning of the term Father. It is a truth, and a 
most delightful truth, but it is only a part of the truth. 
There is more truth, and truth equally true and important. 
" God is Judge" " Yerily he is a God that judgeth in the 
earth." " He is the blessed and only Potentate, [magis- 
trate] the King of kings." " The Lord is our Judge ; the 
Lord is our Lawgiver / the Lord is our King." " The 
kingdom is the Lord's and he is the Governor, among the 
nations." " The Lord most high is terrible, he is a great 
King over all the earth." ]STow these statements are just 
as true as the statement that God is our Father, and con- 
vey truth just as important. Neither is there any incon- 
gruity between them. For when all taken together, they 
establish the fact that God sustains to us two or more 
relations : He is our Father ; and he is also our Judge and 
King. 

Let it be particularly observed also, that when the feel- 
ings of the father and the duty of a judge and moral 
Governor, come into collision, the duty of the magistrate 
must prevail ; because the interests which he is to protect, 
are of most consequence. The father regards, as father, 
the happiness of the individual child, whether that child 
be good or bad. The moral governor, as judge, must re- 
gard the interests and happiness of the whole community. 
In deciding, therefore, upon the course proper to pursue 
with transgressors of public law, the judge, if also the 
father of the criminal, must regard himself as the guardian 



52 POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 

and conservator of great general interests ; and must as a 
wise and benevolent being, make those paramount, in com 
ing to his decision. 

Now it is plain from all these facts and reasonings, that 
our heavenly Father, in his treatment of men, does not 
pattern after our human parents ; he treats man as moral 
Governor. He expressly styles himself Judge, Lawgiver, 
and Governor. Most evidently, therefore, if we wish to 
ascertain how God will treat us hereafter, we are to inquire, 
What are the principles of moral government f What 
treatment will a wise and benevolent moral Governor find 
it necessary to deal out to transgressors of his great law ? 
What course of penalty does the support of law in his wide 
dominions require ? These are questions of far more con- 
sequence than this, " How does a father treat his child?" 
God is the Conservator of the vast interests of the universe. 
What treatment of transgressors will exert the most bene- 
ficial influence on the minds and holiness of all the intelli- 
gent subjects of the divine government ? When we can 
stand in God's place, and see as he does, the bearing of his 
measures on all minds, in all worlds, then can we tell how 
God will treat transgressors, and what penalty is demanded 
by infinite wisdom and benevolence. 

II. Another mistake often made in reasoning about the 
treatment which men are to expect from God, is commonly 
to be met somewhat in the following form : " Whatever 
God desires to do, he assuredly can do, and therefore most 
certainly will do." This argument is then applied as fol- 
lows : " God surely desires the salvation of all men ; He 
can save all — therefore he will save all." This argument 
seems to many minds perfectly demonstrative. They rest 
on it, as on a foundation of rock. But let us examine this 
reasoning also, in the light of certain indisputable facts. 



POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 53 

We have all read with horror and sadness, of the fright- 
ful havoc and torture which famine is now inflicting on 
Ireland. As necessary to my argument, I will cite a few 
incidents, though you have all unquestionably read them 
before. In one district, five thousand persons have died of 
mere starvation. One writer says: "I met a woman, a 
horrible, famine-stricken spectacle, with the bones almost 
protruding through her skin. She returned with me to her 
cabin, in which there was nothing but a pile of half-rotten 
straw, which was the bed for the whole family, without 
any night-covering whatever. i There,' said she, ' are six 
helpless children ; they have not tasted food for four days. 
The other clay my husband found a dead horse, and brought 
home a basketful of the fragments which the dogs had 
left. Now that is gone, what shall we do for our starving 
children V ' Another writes : " The cries of the babe were 
terrible, from hunger. But at last, he died on Sunday 
night. He died lying on his mother's breast, and had 
gnawed away part of the breast from famine. The next 
day, the mother died." Another: "I saw a woman take 
up some fish entrails from a putrid heap, and eat them 
ravenously. She tried to walk out of the yard, but stag- 
gered and fell from mere exhaustion, yet continued to gnaw 
the disgusting food." But enough ; the papers are full of 
like horrible details. 

Now, I ask, does God delight to see his children tor- 
mented with hunger? Is our heavenly Father pleased, as 
lie gazes on the slow and torturing process of death by 
starvation ? No man dares say that ; yet He, every where 
present, sees it all ; witnesses the frightful and sure on- 
coming of despair, hunger and woe, in those cabins ; hears 
every groan ; and looks on all the scenes of filth, naked- 
ness, and anguish, there in progress. Does not God desire, 



54 POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 

in itself considered, that suffering should cease ? No one 
doubts it. We feel that it would be blasphemy to assert 
that God was either pleased with such misery, or was indif- 
ferent to it. Yet there the suffering is, and God can remove 
it instantly, without delay or fatigue, and for it substitute 
health and plenty. But he does not remove it. There is 
something which he thinks it desirable to remove, which he 
can remove, but which he does not remove. 

What, then, becomes of the famous demonstration, 
" What God desires to do, he can do, and will do" ? It is 
refuted by indisputable facts. Some gross and fatal fallacy 
there must be in the argument ; where is it ? It does not 
begin far enough back.. The reasoner forgets, that God in 
deciding what he will do in any particular case, has other 
and vaster considerations to look at, than the interests af- 
fected by that particular case ; and that these influence his 
decision as to what he will or will not do. Thus for exam- 
ple ; when God commenced the existence and control of 
our earth, he saw the whole results of all possible modes of 
management. In view of all these, he selected, as the 
most wise and benevolent, the system of control by general 
laws / that is, he saw that the highest good, on the whole, 
would be promoted by the establishment and invariable 
observance on his part, of such general laws ; relative, for 
instance, to the course of the seasons, the growth, health 
and disease of plants, and all those events which take 
place by the " course of nature," as we say. As a God of 
perfect wisdom and love, then, he will select and pursue 
undeviatingly the best possible system. 

In any particular case, therefore, God, in deciding what 
he will do, has already settled it as wise and best, after 
looking at all possible results of his conduct, that he should 
maintain the general laws established at the beginning ; 



POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. OO 

and that it is not wise and benevolent to interpose in any 
manner at variance with those general laws. And in this 
particular case of Ireland, God could interpose, and feed 
and save the starving population. He takes no pleasure 
in their sufferings. He must desire to relieve that suffer- 
ing. But on the principles already laid down, he sees 
it is not wise and best to interpose; therefore he does not, 
and will not, do that which he can do for their relief. 

There are many analogies which may illustrate this mat- 
ter. Thus, it is a settled and fundamental first truth in 
politics with us as a people, that a republican government 
is best ; will, on the whole, promote the general good most 
effectually. We therefore establish such a government. 
But there are certain evils incidental to this form of gov- 
ernment ; and we knew the fact when we established it. 
Mobs can more easily be raised, and be with more difficulty 
put down, than in a stern and watchful despotism. We 
do not like mobs ; we desire earnestly their suppression. 
We can suppress them. We, as a people, can put over our- 
selves an iron government like that of Russia. There are 
no mobs there. But we will not do that. Much as we detest 
mobs, we still have such a settled conviction of the superior 
benefit resulting from the unbroken perpetuity of a repub- 
lican government, that we will not touch nor alter the 
system. 

I do not pretend that there is a perfect analogy between 
this case and the divine government. But it illustrates the 
general truth, that an intelligent being may desire to do a 
thing, and be able to do it, and yet refuse to do it, and that 
this refusal may be wise and benevolent, resting on a regard 
to the vaster interests, which that wisdom sees to be better 
secured by firm adherence to a previously and benevolently 
formed system. 



66 POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 

How insecure then, is the foundation on which many are 
resting their hopes of salvation ! Whoever is at all conver- 
sant with men's opinions and feelings on religious subjects, 
must be aware that multitudes are expecting salvation on 
the ground of these very sophisms, examined in this dis- 
course. " God," they say, " is our Father ; a father can not 
be long displeased with his children ; he loves to make 
them happy ; and I think that our heavenly Father 
will make me happy :" drawing these inferences from what 
they know or imagine, of the tendencies of mere human 
parental love. If any of you, my hearers, are inclined thus 
to reason and hope, let me remind you, that if God is your 
Father, he was as truly the father of the men of Noah's 
age. Yet he sent on them the deluge, with its frightful 
havoc and woe. In so doing, did God treat men as a 
human father treats his children ? Did he not treat them 
as a just and offended moral governor f If he treated them 
here as a judge and moral governor, is it not most reason- 
able to infer that he will so treat them hereafter f So like- 
wise, God was as truly the heavenly Father of the Sodom- 
ites, as he is yours. Yet he consumed them in the fire ; de- 
liberately prepared for them that storm of wrathful fire, 
and its unutterable woes. "Would any of you that is a 
father, thrust your child into a fiery furnace ? When the 
heavenly Father of the Sodomites therefore, plunged them 
into that fiery storm, he was surely acting like a just and 
stern moral governor, dealing with offenders. If then we 
find that God treats guilty men in this world, not as fathers 
treat their children, but as a righteous judge treats offenders 
of the worst kind ; then we may infer with as much certainty 
as analogy can give to any inference, that he will go on 
treating them, in a future state, as a moral governor deals 



POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 57 

with guilty transgressors. Frail indeed, then, is the founda- 
tion of that hope, which rests on this miserable sophistry. 

Others again, are carelessly despising or deferring all 
preparation to meet God in judgment, on the ground of 
that other sophism — " God is good ; a good being must de- 
sire to make me happy ; he can make me happy, therefore 
he will make me happy." But is our heavenly Father 
doing all he can to make the starving Irish happy ? Is he 
doing all he can to make the degraded and outraged slave 
happy ? Did God do all he could, in that particular case, 
to prevent Adam from bringing on himself the misery of 
sin ? Is God doing all he can to make you happy ? Have 
you been, all through life as happy as an omnipotent, 
heavenly Father could make you ? The answer to these 
questions is obvious. It is plain, then, that there are other 
considerations which influence God in dealing with you, 
than a desire, merely and exclusively, to make you happy. 
God has a vast system of moral government, embracing all 
worlds and all beings ; with laws perfectly benevolent and 
wise ; and with the most cogent and amazing influences to 
lead men to rectitude and happiness. Under this system 
he creates and places man, a free agent, to work out under 
such a system, his own destiny, for good or ill ; not inter- 
posing in each individual case to make each one, trans- 
gressor or not, as happy as he can ; but throwing on the in- 
dividual the responsibility of making himself happy or 
miserable ; and carrying out this great system of law and 
government, as the wisest and best possible. 

Yet on sophistries like these I have examined men will 
rest their everlasting hopes ! Their eternal all, they hang 
on a cobweb. They will not so risk a hundred dollars ; 
they will pile security on security, they must have notes 
with good indorsers, or demand bonds and mortgages, and 



58 POPULAR FALLACIES EXAMINED. 

will get all possible evidence of the value of a man's credit, 
ere they trust him, even with a paltry sum of money. But 
their own eternal well-being, they trust — to what? 

In a wild sea-storm, when the waters were boiling and 
raging in their terrible wrath, crushing and grinding up the 
massy timbers and compact hull of the mighty steamship 
like so many egg-shells, would you venture out on the 
waves, upon a soft bundle of straw tied together ? Even 
when the sea was calm, would you trust a cargo of goods 
across the ocean, in a boat made of clapboards and brads ? 
Oh ! no, when these temporal matters are concerned you must 
have all the security which human skill can make out of 
wood and iron and seamanship. You do not trust your life 
or your property to a cable made of cobwebs, or to a raft 
built of shingles and tacks. But here are higher and vaster 
interests. We are to launch forth into a new and eternal 
state of existence, where we shall be capable, to say the 
least, of unending joy or of ever-during woe. To what do 
multitudes trust, in this momentous voyage? On what are 
their hopes founded ? What security have they for a blessed 
existence in that other world ? Nothing — absolutely no- 
thing, but these sophistical reasonings, which I have ex- 
amined in this discourse. 

There is the rock, the everlasting rock, Christ Jesus, on 
which they may plant themselves. There is the anchor, 
which they may cast within the vail, fast by the throne of 
God. They are rejected or forgotten, and men trust their 
eternal well-being to cobwebs and sophistries. My friends, 
where are your everlasting hopes ? 



LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 59 



IV. 
LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 

" The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness ; 
but is long-suffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that 
all should come to repentance." — 2 Peter 3 : 9. 

It seems that there were scoffers in old time as now. 
They heard the same affectionate warnings of that future 
evil which awaits the sinner, but sneered at them with the 
taunting cavil, " Where is the promise of his coming? for 
since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as from the 
Beginning of the creation." (2 Peter 3 : 4.) As much as 
to say : " We have heard these things for years, but we live 
on, as happy as ever. God is bestowing blessings on us 
continually, instead of wrath, and we do not believe these 
threaten ings." To this skepticism the Apostle answers in 
the words of the text, "The Lord is not slack concerning 
his promise, as some men count slackness ; but is long-suf- 
fering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but 
that all should come to repentance ;" that is : " Be assured 
the Lord is not slack, as you think he is. You think he 
is slack, and that he does not intend ever to fulfill what he 
has spoken of wrath coming upon the wicked ; whereas, it is 
simply a most merciful delay and forbearance, in order that 
you may have space for repentance." The truth thus clearly 
expressed in the text is, God in deferring the execution 
of the penalty of the law, is temporarily and benevolently 
waiting for the sinner to repent. 



60 LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 

Then, as now, men, with a curious similarity of mental 
development, misinterpreted the divine forbearance ; and 
insisted on the inference, that God did not care enough 
about sin to punish it ; that sin was a kind of misfortune 
which God pitied ; and that what are called the threaten - 
ings of God w T ere the mere croakings of sour, harsh, and 
bigoted minds. But the Apostle is very careful to guard 
against any such misapprehension, by stating clearly and 
repeatedly the certainty of future woe. " Whose judgment 
now of a long time lingereth not, and their damnation 
slumbereth not. For if God spared not the angels that 
sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them 
into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment ; the 
Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temptations, 
and to reserve the unjust unto the day of judgment to be 
punished." (Chap. 2 : 3, 4, 9.) " But the heavens and the 
earth, which are now, are kept in store, reserved unto fire, 
against the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men." 
(Chap. 3 : 7.) He makes it very^sure that the delay is not 
owing to any indifference in God ; to any doubts as to the 
ill-desert of sin ; any wavering as to the certainty of its 
coming penalty ; but rather to its very certainty and dread - 
fulness. It is so fearful that God waits and warns long, 
that there may be ample time for repentance. 

The same truth is developed in other forms. In that 
parable, for instance, of the barren fig-tree, the owner is re- 
presented as coming for three successive years, seeking fruit 
Its destruction was ordered, because it bore no fruit / but 
on intercession it was spared another year, that it might 
have an opportunity of bearing fruit; if not, then it was to 
be irrevocably condemned. 

The statement of the text is further corroborated by the 
fact that God is continually using means to bring the sin 



LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 61 

ner to repentance. With many a sinner God began to use 
such means almost in his infancy: gave him, perhaps, a 
mother who early taught him his duty, who kneeled with 
him in prayer ; and, while he was yet a child on her knee, 
led him to the knowledge of God and of the Saviour. Per- 
haps he can remember some almost infantile struggle with 
conscience, some sad thoughts about sin. God was then 
using means with that mind to bring it to repentance. 
Since then, parental warnings, friendly invitations, revivals 
of religion, strivings of the Spirit, and accusations of con- 
science, all continued and repeated for years, are testi- 
monies that God is waiting for him to repent, deferring the 
promised penalty, because he js not willing that any should 
perish. 

Sometimes the divine plan is still different. God sees a 
sinner in love with the world, and clinging to it with fatal 
delusion. For his good, he baffles and disappoints him ; 
breaks up his plans ; scatters his property ; allows disease 
to grapple with his constitution ; permits slander to blacken 
his good name, and convert his friends into enemies. All 
this is done to make him see that the world he so insanely 
loves, is a treacherous and unsatisfying thing, and to draw 
off his affections to a better object. God is waiting that he 
may repent. 

Perhaps the sinner has enthroned an idol in his heart — 
something which occupies that place of supremacy in the 
affections which God alone can rightfully claim. This idol 
may be a child, or one's family. God snatched away that 
idol ; death tore it from you, distracted and agonized at 
the loss, and left you weeping, bleeding, and alone. But 
as you bemoaned your lot, there came a voice, saying : 
"Lay up your treasure in heaven, for where your treasure 

6 



61 LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 

is, there will your heart be also.''' God was thus waiting 
for your repentance. 

The doctrine of the text is clear ; it were only to darken 
it to attempt any proof, or even farther illustration. Let 
us proceed to consider some lessons to be learned from it. 

1. We should take the same view of human life which 
God does. It is to be feared that most men reverse the true 
position of life's objects, and place uppermost the mere in- 
cidental and temporary purposes of life. They put first in 
their energies some inferior object ; some scheme of busi- 
ness is to be carried out to its completion ; some step in the 
ladder of ambition is to be reached ; a certain amount of 
property is to be realized ; a desirable position for one's 
family is to be attained ; a coveted range of worldly pleas- 
ures is to be secured. They think their schemes and enter- 
prises are of vast consequence, and that they themselves 
are important personages on the world's theatre, like the 
savage chief, who showed the traveller his war-canoe, and 
asked if the king of England had any ships equal to that I 

Alas ! this same deluded, aspiring being is kept alive by 
God, that he may have a little longer space for repentance* 
Justice cries, "Cut him down; why cumbereth he the 
ground 2" but God replies, " I will spare him a little longer, 
try yet more influences on his soul, peradventure he will 
repent." Then, as the golden hours of grace flee like the 
lightning, come God's gentle strivings, falling silent as 
snow-flakes when the wind is hushed ; or God's fearful 
threatenings, louder than the voice of many thunders, all 
ringing, " Repent, repent I" 

All are on the same level. The poor slave, whose daily 
toil seems to be of just about as much consequence, as that of 
the horse whose companion he is, and who, if he think at all ? 



LONG -SUFFERING OF GOD. 63 

must often think in wondering anguish, "Why is existence 
given to me, or why is it prolonged ?" Pie is continued in 
life, that he may have space for repentance. Our great 
men, who speak great swelling words, who mean to make 
for themselves a name in history, whose political move- 
ments and aims are as vast as if the world rested on their 
shoulders ; who think themselves to be of vast consequence 
to God ; they are poor sinners, spared a little longer, that 
they may have space for repentance. All these, and all 
intermediate classes, are immortal beings. God aims to 
secure to them alike an immortality of bliss. He alone, 
then, is truly wise, who makes this his own highest 
aim. 

2. We learn the reason of some of the terrible events in 
history. " God is not slack concerning his promise, as some 
men count slackness ;" that is, as some think he is. They 
think he is slack, because he is not really angry with sin, and 
is quite too kind to punish. Some events of Providence 
seem purposely designed to prevent such an interpretation 
of the divine movements, to show by some feeble harbin- 
gers or first fruits how God does feel. I select the cholera, 
as it appeared in 1832, 1834, and lighter in 1849, as an 
illustration of my meaning. It began on the other side of 
the globe, and set forth westward with the resistless tread 
of omnipotence ; it traversed whole continents, slaughter- 
ing millions in its course. As it reached the confines of 
one nation, it seemed deliberately to select the cities in 
which it would prefer to dwell, then striking its fangs into 
human-frames with the certainty of the viper's blow. More 
like a special messenger of God, than an ordinary disease, 
it bade defiance to all skill and precaution. It overleaped 
mountains, it crossed rivers and seas, and spread itself out 
like a deluge. As if a fiend of hell were let loose, it filled 



64 LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 

every village in its track with weeping and woe ; its path 
was strewn with the dead, and its history was written in 
lamentation and mourning. There was awful wrath in some 
Being, when his agent was commissioned to such a fearful 
work of havoc. 

It reached the opposite shore of the Atlantic in the au- 
tumn of the # year. It seemed to stand there for the winter, 
gathering strength for new victories on this side the 
ocean, or meditating where in the New World to make its 
onset. But God gave the word, and its ravages began in 
America. Its work is matter of sad history. 

Why ? Because men say, " God is slack concerning his 
promises ; he never will work out the fearful penalty of 
law r nor make sin feel wrath. Look at that beneficent sun, 
the pleasant air, the gentle dews, the rains and harvests ; 
can a God of love, thus daily preaching and practising 
love, do such a fearful work V God answers that question 
in sending, or allowing such a visitation as the cholera; 
like a brief and partial opening of the valve, letting out a 
few sparks of the fiery furnace which is glowing within, 
yet still confined. Does not a Being who will do that, 
show that he means to deal in earnest with men for their 
sins ? 

" Ah ! but you mistake ; the cholera was not de- 
signed to be a token of God's feelings toward sin at all. 
Had our cities been clean, and families been prohibited 
from living in crowded rooms, cellars and garrets ; had the 
public used proper precautions about diet, we should have 
had little or no cholera." Well, for the sake of the argument 
I will accept the explanation. That terrible scourge which 
has swept away in its three visitations, fifty millions of hu- 
man beings, was simply the result of imprudence and filth. 
But you will grant at least that God allowed the cholera 



LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 65 

to go on, that lie was the author of those natural laws by 
which it arose, and that he actually meant that such a terri- 
ble scourge should follow. So that you do in fact, trace it 
up to God. 

Look then at the state of the argument. The cholera 
was a scourge and designed by God to be a scourge for 
imprudence and filth. Ah ! is God so stern a being as 
that? Will he destroy fifty millions of human beings in 
some of the most terrible forms of destruction, simply be- 
cause they are indiscreet and uncleanly ; to make the sur- 
vivors feel the necessity for care and neatness for the 
future? See how strong it makes then my argument. 
For if God will so terribly punish imprudence, will he not 
much more terribly punish sin ? 

As an illustration of the fact that God is not slack con- 
cerning his promises as some men think he is, let any one 
read the history of France and of the French revolution from 
the year 1790 to 1800. He can not but be horror-struck. 
It will almost seem to him as if he were reading a history 
of some subject province of Pandemonium, where fiends 
had been let loose to do their utmost in tormenting each 
other. From one end of France to the other, cities and 
villages ran down with blood. The ordinary modes of exe- 
cution were too slow for their wholesale butcheries, and a 
machine was invented for cutting off heads in the most 
rapid practicable manner. There was a literal thirst for 
blood ; men seemed, like tigers, to feast on carnage. Paris 
seemed like the residence of demons — the slaughter-house 
of men. At length the people, wearied out with horrors, 
were glad to take refuge under the yoke of despotism. 

How could such events occur under the government of a 
benevolent God ? Oh ! there were political reasons to be 
found in the follies and oppressions of Louis XY. and XYL 



66 LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 

True, but God allowed these events when he might have 
hindered them ; and God was the author of that system of 
general laws, by and in accordance with which, these terri- 
ble scenes appeared, so that after all, one must trace them 
up to God, who therein has most emphatically declared 
that he is not slack concerning his promises, as men think 
he is. For they maintain that he is quite too kind to fulfill 
those penal promises and let sin feel his holy displeasure. 
God would then let them see what would be the necessary 
consequences of sin, when allowed to have its own way 
without any direct interference on his part. 

Remember that previously to 1790, and for a long course 
of years, the leading minds in France had been Atheists. 
They maintained that religion enslaved men ; that Christ- 
ianity had oppressed the world and was a device of priest- 
craft to grind men the more easily into the dust ; that true 
freedom and happiness were to be found in the utter re- 
jection of all religious restraints. To such an extent had 
these views prevailed, that the legislative republican body 
voted God oat of existence. 

God said most strikingly : " If you then dislike my rule, 
take the rule of sin unrestrained and uninterfered with. I 
will let you try the experiment whether sin is not really 
the bitter thing I have declared it to be. Go on." And 
with what result ? There were persecutions as bloody as 
the crudest Jesuit ever dreamed of; oppressions such as 
ordinary tyrants seldom dare to exercise. Men fought 
with savage ferocity and hate, when they had cast off 
religion, and the most bitter, crushing bondage was the 
result of infidelity. 

It was as if God had said : " You disbelieve all I have 
promised, as to the future ill consequences of sin. But all I 
have to do, now or hereafter, is merely to let sinful beings 



LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. ' 67 

alone, leave them to act out themselves without any re- 
straint from me ; they will be their own tormentors. To 
prove to .you that I am in earnest, I occasionally and tem- 
porarily let sin develop its tendencies in this world. I am 
not slack concerning my promises, bat I delay that men 
nay repent." 

3. Let me then urge it directly on you as a reason why 
you should repent now. There are few probably who do 
not cherish intentions, more or less clear, of becoming good 
men at some future time. But at present, circumstances 
are unfavorable on account of one's business or associates 
or cares. Therefore the matter must be deferred. 

But God is waiting for you to repent ; he is not waiting 
that you may wait and delay, but that you may repent ; as 
God did not put off the destruction of Soclom till morning, 
that Lot might linger in the city, but that he might escape. 
The right use of the divine forbearance is not procrastina- 
tion, but to flee. While God thus delays, he cries : "To-day 
if ye will hear his voice, harden not your heart ;" " !N"ow is 
the accepted time ;" " Flee from the wrath to come." 

Is it not exceedingly dangerous, then, to trespass on the 
divine forbearance ; to abuse and pervert the very time 
selected by God for gaining salvation? Suppose that in 
that fiery storm that fell on Sodom, after a few showers of 
that fearful rain had fallen, the hand of God had been 
staid, and proclamation had been made to the inhabitants 
that for a short time the tempest would be held back, for 
the express purpose of giving all an opportunity to escape. 
The fire ceased ; the inhabitants looked up and saw, indeed, 
some terrible vestiges of incipient wrath, but the sky was 
again clear ; and they concluded on the whole that they 
would spend a little more time in their usual diversions or 
business ; or, at least, would not hasten themselves until 



68 "LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 

they should again see a few drops of the fiery tempest 
begin to fall. They were quite snre that then would be 
time enough to escape the danger. What madness to re- 
main another moment on the accursed spot doomed to 
wrath ! How soon would they be taken unawares in the 
destruction of the devoted city ! 

Hardly less perilous or infatuated is the position of the 
delaying sinner. God waits, and he takes the time and 
gives it to his own lusts. God calls, " Escape for thy 
life ;" he only replies : " The future ! the future." The 
warning is, "The storm is coming;" the conduct says: 
" When I see the storm coming, and feel it beating on my 
head, then will I flee." 

How much longer think you, God will wait for you ? a 
year? a month? a week? an hour? Perhaps he will, 
perhaps he will not. There is reason to fear that in most 
cases God has ceased waiting for the sinner to repent, ere 
he sends the angel of death to summon him to judgment. 
God waits and waits ; calls and influences ; till perhaps the 
sinner scoifs at this affectionate forbearance as proof that 
God is slack concerning his promises. Death comes, not to 
call him to repentance, but to judgment. God has spared 
him in vain, and now closes the account and calls him to 
meet it. Xow the sinner, who meant to crowd his repent- 
ance into the remotest verge of life, begins wildly to call 
on God ; but he has sinned too lo?ig, the time of forbear- 
ance is past. What a fearful thing to struggle with that 
awful combination and trinity of evils, the agony of death, 
the stings of despair, and the wrath of God ! 

But God is not willing that any should perish. We are 
told that there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repent- 
eth ; God your father would rejoice over your return to 



LONG-SUFFERIXG OF GOD. 69 

your father's bouse, and higher joy would pervade heaven 
should you come home to God. 

He is long-suffering, but what is your life ? Have you 
ever stood on the shore of the great deep and seen the 
ocean throwing wave after wave to break and scatter on 
the shore ? So time like a flood sweeps onward, carries 
one generation of men after another, and dashes them on 
the shore of eternity. We of this generation are now on 
the wave, but shall soon be with our fathers. After a few 
years, still as now, the spring will open, but it will come 
to gladden other hearts ; the summer's sun will shine as 
brightly as it was wont, but it will shine on our graves ; 
new herbage will flourish, but it will grow on us, forgotten. 

But the deathless soul ! Where will that be ? In 
heaven ? or in hell ? 

Make Jesus Christ your friend, rest in his love ; the sha- 
dow of his wings shall be your covert — a house not made 
with hands, eternal in the heavens, your dwelling. Or will 
you chase shadows, sacrifice your soul, and abide in the 
prison of despair ? 

Will you make this choice ? Then go on, taste all the 
gratifications you can find ; heap together as much of earthly 
good as you can accumulate ; say unto your soul, Take 
thine ease, eat, drink and be merry. Quench the Spirit, 
cast off the fear of the Lord. But remember that for all 
these things God will bring thee into j udgment. Though un ■ 
heeded by you, he follows you, notes every act, and trea- 
sures up the memory of your whole life. Guilt deepens 
and darkens around you, till at length the measure of your 
iniquity being full and the forbearance of God exhausted, 
probation closes and retribution begins. This world which 
might have been to you the vestibule, the outer porch of 
the heavenly, from which you might have had a glimpse 
6* 



TO LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 

of the entrancing glories within, becomes thus a gateway 
and preparation for hell. 

4. A sinner may oe ripe for destruction. This condition 
is alluded to in that startling language of the Revelation : 
" Thrust in thy sickle and reap, and gather the clusters of 
the vine of the earth, for her grapes are fully ripe. And the 
angel thrust in his sickle into the earth and gathered the 
vine of the earth, and cast it into the great wine-press of 
the wrath of God." Representing this idea, that such was 
the condition of man, that destruction was all they were fit 
for, the only use to which they could be put. 

In certain gross cases, it is easy to understand how a 
moral agent may put himself into that position. Suppose 
a boy begins to steal, but on account of his tender years and 
promises of amendment, his crime is overlooked. Tie steals 
again, and pity again overlooks the sin. Impunity encour- 
ages the boy, and he repeats his thefts and is again and 
again screened from punishment. He is deaf to all remon- 
strances, grows continually bolder in crime, and others are 
encouraged by his example and impunity, to commence a 
like career in sin. Is it not plain that he may reach such 
a position, that he is fit for nothing but punishment ? 
By receiving that, he can be of use, for it will sustain law 
and check crime. He is ripe for the penalty. 

It is an affecting truth, that a sinner may put himself in 
a similar position under the government of God. He may 
resist so much influence, and reject so many calls, and per- 
sist so long in rebellion against God, that longer forbearance 
would be an encouragement to sin. He is ripe for destruc- 
tion. His destruction as a warning, will do good, and in 
that way only will good be done by him, or in the affecting 
language of the Apostle, "He is a vessel of wrath, fitted to 
destruction, whose end is to be burned." 



LONG -SUFFERING OF GOD. 71 

Who are they ? Are any such here ? God only knows. 
Some who have resisted the strivings of the Spirit ? Who 
once wept and feared, but are now hardened i who now 
positively dislike all serious thoughts? who try to cast off 
the fear of God ? who glory in being able to sin without 
compunction ? 

For what then is such a one ripe ? For repentance ? He 
is farther from it than ever. For heaven ? He is becom- 
ing more fixed in his course of sin. For destruction \ If 
not ripe, yet ripening for it, for then might others be warned 
and awakened to think and repent. 

Who is ripe for destruction ? We may perhaps learn 
from the antediluvians. While the ark was building, Xoah 
was a preacher of righteousness to them. For a hundred 
3 r ears God waited on them to repent, and during that time 
the minister of God raised his voice of warning and entreaty. 
]STo doubt during all that long period, on Sabbaths and at 
every opportunity presented, Xoah, and perhaps his sons, 
invited all to fi.ee from the wrath to come and to prepare 
each for themselves an ark. But they thought that God 
was slack concerning his promises, and would make no 
preparation. They persevered in sin and scoffed at reproof. 

But one day their faithful reprover was silent ; he did 
not even come among them. They were glad to be relieved 
of his importunity, and perhaps boastfully congratulated 
themselves that they had tired out the indefatigable 
preacher, or it may be thought that Xoah himself was con- 
vinced that he was mistaken and had adopted more liberal 
views. They rejoiced that they could now sin on without 
disturbance. 

But God had abandoned them. Striving had ceased, be- 
cause they were ripe for destruction. Xoah was entering 



72 LONG-SUFFERING OF GOD. 

into the ark, and the floodgates of wrath above and beneath, 
were just about to be opened. 

Thus, while God is waiting for the sinner to repent, he 
reproves, warns, strives, creates more or less uneasiness. 
But if warnings and striving cease and the sinner is at ease 
in sin, then is the most dangerous and awful crisis. For 
it is proof that he is ripe for destruction — ready for his final 
doom. 

Are you at ease in sin ? Has the Spirit ceased to strive ? 
Then have you no time to lose. Awake and call upon thy 
God, if peradventure thou mayest yet escape. 



BELIEVING A LIE. 73 



V. . 
BELIEVING A LIE. 

"And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should 
believe a lie."— 2 Thess. 2:11. 

This language is strong and startling, and may well 
arouse one to inquiry and thought. That men should com- 
mit mistakes and cherish some erroneous opinions, is not 
strange, it is natural. But that men should he under de- 
lusion, strong delusion, so strong as to receive a palpable lie as 
a truth ; that they should be abandoned to this state by God, is 
alarming. One can not but inquire whether a like mental 
curse is possible or probable now ; if so, by what processes 
it may be incurred or avoided. I will therefore suggest 
the following remarks. 

1. Facts, or cases in which it would appear that men 
have been given over to strong delusion to believe a lie. 

Lord Bolingbroke was an infidel of great learning and 
genius. He wrote a book against Christianity, in which 
revelations and miracles were ridiculed as incredible, and 
as matters which every man of sense would of course re- 
ject. He tells us that after his book was finished, he 
kneeled down and prayed that God would give him some 
sensible sign, or token, if the sentiments of the book were 
right. Immediately, he says, it thundered over his right 
shoulder, as a voice from heaven encouraging him to go 
on and publish his book. He assures us that he received 



74 BELIEVING A LIE. 

this as divine testimony in his favor. The well-authenti- 
cated miracles of the Bible he could reject as incredible, 
and yet with a drivelling superstition, could receive a 
chance clap of thunder as a special and miraculous inter- 
position in his behalf. Surely he was given over to strong 
delusion to believe a lie. 

T\ 7 hen Christ and his disciples wrought numerous and 
stupendous miracles in various parts of the Roman Empire, 
the great mass of the Roman people rejected their message 
and claims, and treated their miracles as a palpable impos- 
ture. The great men in the empire regarded the whole 
matter of Christianity with special contempt and arrogance. 
Yet those very same men, when they were to decide the 
great questions of war and peace, would endeavor to ascer- 
tain the will of their gods, by killing an ox and searching 
with disgusting minuteness the entrails, with the degrading 
belief that certain appearances in the liver of the dead 
animal would indicate the divine opinion ; or they would 
throw crumbs of bread to certain chickens, kept in the 
temple, and from the mode in which they pecked at their 
food, endeavor to read the mind of God. These great 
men, quite too intelligent to receive the truths and miracles 
of Christianity, could stoop reverentially to such degrading 
absurdities. They too were given over to strong delusion 
to believe a lie. 

The main body of the Jews, with their educated men, 
Pharisees and Rabbis, contemptuously rejected Christ, 
though attesting his divine mission by miracles of unques- 
tionable divine power. When the miracle was too palpa- 
ble to be denied, they ascribed it to the devil. Yet they 
coald follow false prophets and impostors with the most be- 
sotted credulity. One Theudas came and pretended to be 
Christ, and thousands of infatuated Jews followed him out 






BELIEVING A LIE. iO 

into the wilderness, duped by his promise there to work 
miracles and fight against the Romans, and. were there mis- 
erably cut to pieces by the Roman troops. 

The beautiful and divinely authenticated doctrines 
which Christ preached, they could not receive, but treated 
as fables or lies. Yet they could receive the most mon- 
strous absurdities. Thus in the Talmud, the authoritative 
book among the Jews, they were forbidden to read, by 
lamplight on the Sabbath, lest the lamp should be trimmed 
or picked, for this would be a violation of the Sabbath 
command, " Thou shalt do no work." An ox which gored. 
a man on the Sabbath day, was more severely punished 
than if he had committed the same offense on a week-day. 
It was wrong to eat of the fruit of a tree until the tree was 
five years old. David was once caught by a Philistine, 
tied fast and put under a wine-press to be pressed to death, 
but the ground under him became so soft that he could not 
be hurt. All such childish fooleries they could receive as 
sacred truth, while rejecting the Gospel. Verily, they 
were given over to strong delusion, to believe a lie. 

Had you visited ISTauvoo a few years ago, you might 
have seen thousands of men who believed that some one 
had found a number of golden tablets or leaves, buried in 
the ground somewhere in the State of ]STew-York ; that on 
those golden plates was inscribed in an unknown tongue a 
revelation from God ; that a certain man by the name of 
Smith, who never learned that language, translated the 
writing and had the golden plates, though no one ever saw 
them. Yet these thousands of men followed this impostor 
into the wilderness, at. his bidding wrought like slaves in 
rearing up a costly and magnificent temple, and with ab- 
ject servility obeyed his mandates as those of a messenger 
of God. The beautiful, the simple Gospel, they either re- 



76 BELIEVING A LIE. 

jected or disregarded, in this insane delusion of believing a 
lie, believing a lie with the very book of truth in their 
hands, like the Israelites worshipping a golden calf, when 
the infinite Jehovah was manifest in their sight. 

Again there are persons much nearer home, who think 
it a trivial offense to lie, swear, fight, and break the Sab- 
bath ; who yet believe it an enormous offense to eat meat 
on Fridays ; would be shocked at the guilt of reading a 
Bible, or attending on family prayer. Such delusion is cer- 
tainly very strong. 

Immense numbers believe that the service of God is 
hard; that they shall enjoy life better without religion, 
and that therefore they will defer repentance till death. 
All this they believe in the face of the fact that religion, in 
so far as it is genuine, brings them into a resemblance to 
God and to angels, who are supremely happy and who are 
happy because they are good ; and in view of this other 
fact, that by every sin they commit, they become more and 
more like him who sinned from the beginning. Their de- 
lusion is the belief of a fearful lie. 

That men can believe a lie and believe it firmly is un- 
questionable. The inquiry then must naturally arise : 

2. By what process is the mind brought to believe a lie? 
Let no one of us think the inquiry unimportant to ourselves, 
for we individually have minds as capable as those of other 
men of believing a lie. To us and to our souls' welfare, 
the belief of a lie must be as fatal as would be a plunge 
into the ocean with a millstone about one's neck instead of 
a life-preserver. 

In order to understand this fact, we must advert to one 
fact in the philosophy of the human mind, much overlooked, 
yet of vast consequence. Some appear to suppose that the 
mind, in the adoption of its opinions, is like a pair of scales, 



BELIEVING A LIE. 77 

and that, as the evidence for or against any opinion, is put 
into the one or the other side of the balances, so the mind 
inclines and finally settles down to that side which has the 
weight of evidence. Hence the statement, so often made, 
that one is not voluntary in his opinions, or is not account- 
able for his opinions, because they are the result of evi- 
dence, or they are as the evidence. 

But this is by no means a true account of the mode in 
which most men's opinions are formed, particularly their 
judgment on moral and religious matters. The mind's 
operations are curious, and are somewhat analogous to the 
singular power of the body to receive and love what it 
wishes to love, even the vilest substances. What, for 
instance, is more loathsome to the unsophisticated taste 
than tobacco? The stomach revolts at it and rejects it; 
every one of the senses abhors it, and science condemns it. 
Yet even that can be handled and used till it is loved ; 
loved as the most delicious morsel, and retained even when 
offensive to others. The body and the healthful appetites, in 
their proper action, do not demand it ; but they are capable 
of being taught to receive and relish it. 

This may present some illustration of the mind's power 
to receive and believe a lie. Man's wishes, feelings, inter- 
ests, powerfully control the mind in the formation of its 
moral judgments and opinions. Try to convince some of 
the despots of the old world, like the emperors of Russia 
and Austria, that it is the right of every man, woman, and 
child in their dominions, to receive an education ; induce 
them to set on foot measures for imparting our republican sys- 
tem of education to their subjects. Positions and arguments 
which to us are as evident as sunlight, can not move them, any 
more than an infant can overturn our mountains. Their 
pride, power, and interests, have made them believe, no 



78 BELIEVING A LIE. 

doubt, that it is best for the people to continue as ignorant 
as ever. They as honestly believe despotic lies, as we do 
republican truths. The mind, open to conviction and love 
of truth, will receive impressions from truth, as naturally 
and as easily as the silent and gently-falling sunbeams will 
engrave one's likeness on the well-prepared metallic plate; 
on other minds truth will no more make its mark, than the 
sunbeams, which have been falling on the face of the 
rugged rocks for a thousand years, but have drawn no like- 
ness on them yet. 

How has it come to pass that certain men believe that 
alcoholic drinks do them good ? Did evidence lead to that 
belief? Did they find that chemical and medical books, 
after science had tested their nature, and investigated their 
effects, had pronounced them good ? Had anatomy, after 
searching into its operations on the human stomach and 
nerves, declared the stimulus healthful or innocent? Has 
a careful search into the Scriptures, revealed to him the 
will of God, making it his duty to use alcoholic drinks ? 
Have men been led by any such processes to believe that 
strong drink does them good ? I presume we never yet 
met with the man whose mind was thus influenced. He 
believes that strong drink does him good, because he loves 
it. Appetite, not evidence, has originated his belief. Evi- 
dence, with a mind thus preoccupied and fortified by ap- 
petite and interest, though in itself ever ?o powerful, has no 
strength or influence. 

These observations on the mind and its operations, may 
answer the question, how men come to believe a lie ? The 
mind is not a pair of balances decided by evidence, as the 
scales are moved by the weight we put in ; but other 
things beside evidence influence its belief. It can believe 
what it wishes to believe. Error and sin are often more 



BELIEVING A LIE. 79 

congenial to its tastes than truth and holiness, and therefore 
it believes a lie. Such is the account of the matter given 
in the text : " That they should believe a lie ; that they all 
might be damned who believed not the truth, but had 
pleasure in unrighteousness." 

3. What is the agency of God in this delusion of believ- 
ing a lie ? There is an agency alluded to in the text : 
" God shall send them strong delusion." By such passages, 
and by those which speak of God as hardening men's hearts, 
some minds are much perplexed. 

It may help us to right views, to look again at the ana- 
logy of material substances. In so doing we find this com- 
mon fact, that the effect of causes depends on the nature of 
the substance on 'which they act / in other words, the same 
cause will produce different effects on different substances. 
Thus, if you place a bit of wet clay, and a bit of wax, be- 
fore the fire, the same cause, precisely, is operating in both, 
heat ; but the effect on the two is not only diverse, but as 
far as possible contrary. The clay is hardened to stone; 
the wax is melted to a fluid. A blow of the hammer 
makes the piece of red-hot iron more compact and hard, 
but will make a bit of glass fly into a thousand fragments. 

In anticipating results, therefore, one has not only to 
take into the account the cause, but the nature of the thing, 
or the object, acted on. Thus, if one should say, What is 
the effect of heat? we can not tell, till we inquire further 
into the nature of the object on which the heat is to act. 
We can tell what the effect of heat is on clay, or on wax, 
or on iron ; then we can say that fire hardens clay, softens 
wax, and makes iron red and ductile. 

All this is plain ; and yet men overlook an equally plain 
fact in causes and influences, which act on men's mind ; 
and from such oversight comes nearly all the obscurity 



80 BELIEVING A LIE. 

which hangs about this matter. The same truths, operating 
on different minds, may produce entirely diverse effects. 
The effect of motives and moral causes, depends not alone 
on the nature of such causes, but on the state or nature of 
the mind on which they act. Thus a miserable beggar is 
seen by two persons in the street ; one feels disgust and 
dislike, and gets away from so disagreeable an object as 
fast as possible ; the other is moved to deep pity, and is led 
to talk with and visit the debased man to do him good. 
The same ca,use or motive is presented to these two minds ; 
the effect is as different as the hardening of the clay, and 
the melting of the wax. 

Two persons are passing along the street, and both are 
insulted : one flies into a rage ; the other begins to forgive 
and pray for the man who wronged him. The same cause 
is in operation ; the results are totally diverse, because the 
state or conditions of the minds acted on, are different. 
The insult led one man to anger ; the insult led another 
man to pray ; the insult made or induced one to act wick- 
edly, and the other to act rightly ; thus the same cause 
made one man better, the other man worse. 

In like manner, or under the same conditions, God acts 
on human minds. Thus God in his providence, gives 
wealth to two men ; one, in consequence, becomes proud, 
vicious, and selfish, the other becomes benevolent. This is 
plain. But as that wealth must be traced back to God, as 
the disposer of it, it is of course proper to say that God 
made one man better, and another man worse. Placed in 
this connection, and thus illustrated, probably no one feels 
any difficulty in this statement. For what God does is all 
right and benevolent ; the bad results only flow from the 
perverseness of the mind on which God acts. 

We are to remember that causes which act on mind, do 



BELIEVING A LIE. 81 

not act on dead matter, but on living, free agents ; that, 
whether the cause be applied by God or men, the mind 
takes and moulds them, and that therefore the language 
which is used in the case now under consideration, is to be 
used in a qualified sense. 

These principles, then, will illustrate the text, and some 
other passages in the Bible. God hardened Pharaoh's 
heart. But how ? God presented precisely the same facts 
and truths to the mind of Moses and to the mind of Pha- 
raoh. The facts and truths which induced Moses to act 
aright, induced Pharaoh to act wrong. The process of 
mind, and the agency of God, were these : God presented 
to the mind of Pharaoh motives to do right, miracles and 
commands to induce right action. Pharaoh, in view of 
these motives, miracles, and commands, rebelled, and in 
and by that act became a worse man than he was before ; 
for that is the meaning of the phrase, hardening the heart. 
In that way, and in that sense, and only so, did God harden 
Pharaoh's heart. It is ascribed to God, simply because he 
presented the motives to do right, which, through the per- 
verseness of Pharaoh's mind, were the occasion of his doing 
wrong. The same fire hardens clay and softens wax ; the 
same good influence hardened Pharaoh and sanctified 
Moses. 

God, you will perceive, is no more to blame, than if you 
presented to your neighbor a charitable object, and asked 
for some pecuniary aid ; and he, instead of exercising right 
feelings, as it was your aim and the tendency of your motives 
to induce him to do, should fly into a passion for being 
asked. In one sense yoio made him angry, but in a sense 
which implies no blame on your part. In that sense only, 
God hardened Pharaoh's heart, and you will perceive that 
it is only a brief mode of expressing this idea, that God's 



82 BELIEVING A LIE. 

influence on Pharaoh to induce him to do right, was so per- 
verted and resisted, that it became the occasion of his being 
a worse man. 

This may illustrate the agency of God as set forth in the 
text : "And for this cause God shall send them strong de- 
lusion, that they should believe a lie," he sends strong de- 
lusion, as he hardened Pharaoh's heart. I have already 
illustrated at some length that fact or law of the mind, that 
men easily believe what they wish to believe, what interest 
and gratification make them hope to be true. Now the 
verse preceding the text, says they did not love the truth : 
of course they would not wish to believe it ; they could and 
did easily disbelieve it. "For this cause God sent them 
strong delusion." God has so constituted the mind of man, 
that it can believe error and falsehood, just as it can com- 
mit any other sin. " For this cause," that is, because they 
hated and rejected the truth, God left them to follow out 
this course, to believe the lie which they loved to believe. 
God hardened Pharaoh's heart only by presenting motives 
to good, which Pharaoh perverted to the commission of 
greater evil. So God sends them strong delusion to believe 
a lie, because the truth which God sends them, they so per- 
vert, as to make it the occasion of believing a lie. 

There are other similar expressions, as, " We are a savor 
of death unto death." We say that " our preaching hardens 
men." The true idea, I have in the preceding remarks en- 
deavored to convey. 

We learn from this view the danger of doing wrong. No 
doubt some minds are the more easily tempted to do wrong, 
under the impression that after the act of wrong-doing is over 
and done with, they are the same beings they were before; 
with the same power and in the same mental state to choose 
and refuse, to proceed and turn back, as before the act of 



BELIEVING A LIE. 83 

wrong-doing. Hence the resolutions which so many form, 
when about to enter on some act of doubtful rectitude. One 
person will engage in games of chance, but will never 
gamble nor play for money ; another will enter a little into 
bad company for the fun of it, but is fully determined, that 
he will never adopt any vicious habits. Thus there are those 
fond of playing around the outer edge of the terrible whirl- 
pool of sin, now and then taking a sail for pleasure in the 
gentle movements of the outer circle of the whirling waters, 
who never intend nor dream of being caught in those swift 
and resistless gyrations, which carry the shrieking victims 
down into the horribly yawning vortex. Men thus think 
they can amuse themselves with sporting harmlessly awhile 
with sin. 

But this subject shows us that a man, after he has thus 
chosen the wrong, is not the same man. Of course, though 
he can tell what he shall do now, he can not tell what he 
shall do after he becomes a different man. For after he 
has chosen wrong, and Pharaoh-like, acted contrary to the 
motives and influences presented to him, his heart is hard- 
ened. Morally, then, he is not the same man. So also 
by thus taking pleasure in unrighteousness, he has brought 
his mind to some extent under delusion ; he is not in mind, 
in clearness of intellectual discrimination on moral subjects, 
what he was. 

Hence the true philosophy of the delusion which men prac- 
tise on themselves, when they resolve and say they will repent 
at a' future time. They actually intend to repent next year, 
or at the future period they select. Such resolutions about 
deferred repentance are made on the supposition that they 
shall be the same beings they now are. But the man is contin 
ually changing ; the mind, by processes already described, 
is different ; the heart is harder ; the conscience is less sns- 



84 BELIEVING A LIE. 

ceptible, the mind is under stronger delusions. When the 
time fixed upon for the work of repentance comes, it is this 
altered mind which is then to decide whether repentance 
shall be exercised. One can tell how he will act noic\ but 
he can not tell how he shall act after he shall have become 
a different man from what he now is. 

Adam and Eve, before they had listened to the suggestions 
of the devil, and after they had heard his crafty lies and 
appeals, were not the same persons. Had the forbidden 
fruit been offered to them at first, they would have rejected 
it ; offered to them afterward, their minds were by certain 
processes put in a different position ; they took and ate. 
Adam and Eve could say, We now will not taste of that fruit ; 
but they could not say, We will first listen to the advice and 
statements of the tempter, and then we will reject that fruit. 
For after they had listened, then the question of rejecting 
the fruit was to be decided by minds changed. 

To defer repentance, with the intention of repenting at a 
future time, is sheer madness. It is like Pharaoh madly 
plunging through the sea after the Israelites, intending to 
return, if or when the waters should begin to roll back on 
him. 

This whole matter of the change going on in the indi- 
vidual man, is full of instruction ; and if we will reflect on 
it, will mightily stimulate us to feel our responsibilities and 
watch over ourselves. ]STo man is to-day what he was yes- 
terday. The character is continually changing like the 
body. The bad book which we read is not done with, as 
we close it at the last page. It has left its traces on the 
mind. Sensual habits indulged to-day, only strengthen the 
call for animal indulgence tomorrow. That fit of anger 
or boisterous or sullen obstinacy, does not leave us as it 
found us, but leaves its sad and permanent marks of injury 



BELIEVING A LIE. 85 

on the mind. ^Neglect of duty of any kind gradually im- 
pairs the moral vigor of the soul, as certainly as a palsy 
creeping over us day by clay weakens the nervous system 
and the muscular power. Any deception, trickishness, or act 
of meanness in our business, does not leave the soul un- 
marred, but makes its mark on the mind like the deep gul- 
lies which the rains wear in the hill-side ; or like the ghastly 
wounds and scars of the soldier's sabre-stroke. Thus the 
soul, scarred, polluted by the marks of sin, is not the same 
in character from day to day. . 

So the contrary process does not leave the mind unaltered. 
Overcome your bad passions to-day, and your soul is surely 
in a better condition to-morrow, as the workman who has 
wrought out his work to-day is more capable of doing the 
same work better to-morrow. Struggle against your faults 
to-day, and there is as surely an alteration for the better 
within you, as each chip which the sculptor cuts away from 
his block of marble, leaves the stone nearer to that statue 
of perfect beauty, which he is gradually forming. Exercise 
generous and noble feelings, and your soul is permanently 
benefited, as the showers which fall on the earth and seem 
to be lost, do really add to the freshness, beauty, and fer- 
tility of the soil. Every time you do right, you add some- 
thing to the soul's moral strength, as each stroke of the 
artist's brush aids to bring out on the canvas the well-de- 
fined lineaments of the face. 

Under these responsibilities then, do we live. Would 
you have a soul hardened, burnt up, and indurated like a 
stone in the light and fire? There is a process by which it 
can be done. Even God's goodness and truth can do it. 
Would you be given over to strong delusion, to believe a 
lie ? Nothing is easier. Do not love the truth, take plea- 
sure in unrighteousness ; the work will go on. Make profit 
7 



86 BELIEVING A LIE. 

and expediency the rule of your conduct ; do evil, if others 
do ; justify wrong because others do, and you will be very 
likely to believe a lie. 

But love the right ; in our less perilous and yet difficult 
temptations, adhere to the right, as the old Swiss when girt 
round with fire and deadly steel ; firm as the Christians, 
who on the torturing wheel, exclaimed : " We bate no right, 
we curb no truth, come what may come, we shrink not." 

Will that mind ever be left to believe a lie ? 






SELF-CONTROL. 87 



VI. 
SELF-COITEOL. 

" He that is slow to auger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his 
spirit, than he that taketh a city." — Proy. 16 • 32. 

A French writer, speaking of the character and last 
hours of Napoleon Bonaparte, concludes thus : " The se- 
pulchre is closed, the last judgment is pronounced, the 
exploits and crimes of the mighty dead have been weighed 
in the balance of a higher than any human tribunal. Let 
not feeble man undertake to scrutinize the sentence. Who, 
Almighty God, shall sound the depths of thy mercy ? and 
you, scourge of God, who shall say that your genius will 
not find acceptance as a virtue f " The last clause is espe- 
cially worthy of note. "Who shall say that your genius 
will not find acceptance as a virtue ? In other words, it 
expresses the hope that Bonaparte on account of his great- 
ness and talents, would be taken to heaven without the vul- 
gar processes of repentance and faith, notwithstanding his 
crimes. How striking the contrast between that sentiment 
and the judgment of God recorded in the text : " He that 
is slow to anger is better than the mighty ; and he that 
ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city." 

Genius, wealth, and power, in the estimation of many, 
perhaps most men, can palliate crime. Thus, were we to 
say that Bonaparte was one of the worst of murderers, rob- 
bers, and pirates, because he was so on a large scale, many 



88 SELF-CON TROL. 

would regard it as uncharitable and fanatical. But why, I 
would ask, is not the assertion true ? He ordered and pro- 
cured the death and robbery of millions. The only answer 
which could be giyen is, his life and exploits were so bril- 
liant and grand ! 

But, without dwelling on these thoughts, I wish to sug- 
gest some remarks on the text in the following order : 

What is meant by the phrase, ruling the spirit ? Ruling 
one's spirit is but another term to indicate the idea of self- 
government, or the voluntary, intelligent subjection of 
one's self to the law of God. 

None, I presume, will deny that God has a government, 
that heen acts laws, and claims from men obedience to that 
law. It is plain also that great numbers dislike this law ; 
feel that it is irksome, detestable, impracticable, to be 
always trying to do what God requires ; that it is far pleas- 
anter to allow the mind full liberty, unrestrained by any 
other consideration than one's own will and pleasure. Such 
persons do not rule their own spirits. 

Let us now look at some of the particulars comprehended 
under the general fact of self-government. The control of 
one's temper is a part of self-government. 

Admiral Collingwood said to his daughters : " I never 
knew your mother utter a harsh or hasty word in my 
life." Of Leighton, one said : " During a strict intimacy of 
many years, I never saw him for one moment in any other 
temper than that in which he would wish to live and die." 
President Edwards once made and recorded the following 
resolution, as the rule for his conduct : " I will endeavor to 
my utmost, to deny whatever is not most agreeable to a 
good and universally sweet, benevolent, quiet, peaceable, 
meek, submissive, forgiving temper, and to do at all times, 



SELF-CONTROL. 89 

what such a temper would lead me to." " When I am 
most conscious of provocations to ill-nature and anger, that 
I will strive to feel and act good-naturedly." 

These persons ruled their own spirits. Their tempers 
they did not treat like favorites who were to be petted, 
indulged, excused ; but like wild beasts which were to be 
tamed, subdued, and brought under perfect control. Our 
Saviour most evidently considered that part of self-govern- 
ment very important, when he said : " Ye have heard that 
it hath been said by them of old time, thou shalt not kill, 
and whosoever shall kill, shall be in danger of the judg- 
ment, but I say unto you, that whosoever is angry with his 
brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judg- 
ment." Of the same opinion was the inspired Apostle, 
when he enumerated wrath among the other vile works of 
the flesh, and then adds : " They which do such things shall 
not inherit the kingdom of God." (Gral. 5 : 21.) 

I need not ask whether men do actually rule their spirits 
thus. Alas ! where is the shop, or the farm, or the kitchen, 
or the school, or the neighborhood, without sad and ample 
evidence that most persons indulge, not rule their own spi- 
rits ? The physician of an insane retreat says the insanity 
of nine tenths of his patients can be traced back to want of 
early habits of self-control. 

The control of the tongue is another important part of rul- 
ing the spirit. The temper and the tongue are treated by 
the Scriptures with great severity, characterized by the 
most odious traits and loaded with severe invective. The 
temper uncontrolled we have already seen to be ranked 
with murder and idolatry. Of the tongue it is said : " The 
tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity ; it setteth on fire the 
course of nature, and is set on fire of hell. Every kind of 



90 SELF-CONTROL. 

beasts and birds and of serpents is tamed, and hath been 
trained of mankind, but the tongue can no man tame, it is 
an unruly evil, full of deadly poison." (James 3 : 6-8.) 
Still more emphatically does the Scripture set forth the dif- 
ficulty of governing the tongue when it declares, " If any 
man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man, and 
able also to bridle the whole body," (James 3 : 2,) or in 
other words, one who can govern his tongue, can do any 
thing in the way of self-government. 

The tongue is the outward expression or embodiment of 
sin in the heart. One man has an impure and sensual 
imagination, pouring out streams of evil. Another has a 
profane heart, and from his tongue flows the language of 
cursing and bitterness. There is said to be in some tropical 
climates a shrub of such poisonous nature, that the dew- 
drops which collect upon the leaves at night become poi- 
sonous ; if a person passes under the tree, and a dew-drop, 
shaken off by the wind, falls upon his skin, it creates a blis- 
ter. Such are some tongues. Their words fall like blister- 
ing, poisonous dew-drops. The acrid, envious, slanderous 
heart infuses its poison into the tongue, and thence is dis- 
tilled the expression of these bad passions. 

Whatever passion rules in the heart has the control of 
the tongue. When anger is raging within, what torrents 
of angry words come raging and roaring from the tongue ! 
When contempt and envy are in the soul, what biting, 
sneering, provoking language falls like blistering dew- 
drops ! 

On this point, too, men disdain every thing like curb or 
law, as the worst form of despotism. We have guarded 
our rights on this subject by the most sacred guarantees of 
law. The freedom of speech and of the press are secured 
by the explicit provisions of our Constitution, as one of the 



SELF-CONTROL. 91 

inherent rights of man in our republic. So steadfastly do 
we adhere to this right and spurn any interference with it 
from monarchy or human law, that I fear we imperceptibly 
pass over into the feeling, that even God has no right to 
control our tongues, and practically say with arrogant sin- 
ners of old : "Oar lips are our own: who is lord over us V 
(Ps. 12 : 4.) 

Now one who rules his spirit may have, is most likely to 
have, a manly independence of character, but he fully 
recognizes the right of God to rule over him and to control 
his speech and his tongue. Therefore he intelligently sub- 
jects himself to the divine government. He does not let 
passion govern his tongue, nor allow envy, nor selfishness, 
nor sensuality, to control his speech, but submitting to God, 
finds in that perfect freedom. 

Killing one's spirit comprises the government of the bodily 
appetites. Food and drink are necessary to our existence 
here. God has been pleased to connect pleasurable sensa- 
tions with the use of food and drink. But many abuse 
this benevolent arrangement of God, and make the pleasure 
of gratifying their appetite the ultimate and supreme end. 

Now it is true that God designed when I put food and 
drink into my mouth that I should receive pleasurable sen- 
sations, but he by no means designed that I should be in- 
fluenced by no other consideration in selecting them ; that 
my pleasure should be the only guide. Suppose three 
cups are placed upon the table, each full of something 
which is pleasant to the taste ; and one which is loathsome. 
I take up this one, I find it bitter, that is, unpleasant to 
me — I refuse to take it — it is right, right to consult my 
own happiness, if no other considerations are involved. I 
take a second and taste ; it is pleasant, and I proceed to 
drink, when some one arrests my hand and tells me it is 



92 SELF-CONTROL. 

poisoned. I at once set it down on account of the injurious 
effects it will produce on myself. That also is right. I 
take a third ; that also is pleasant, and I am proceeding to 
satisfy my appetite, when some one checks me and shows 
me that such are the relations, conditions, and influences on 
society, that if I drink that cup, it will have a decided ten- 
dency to corrupt my fellow-men. Xow here is a considera- 
tion drawn from its effects on others. I am bound there- 
fore to set down that cup also. The fourth is reached by 
none of these considerations, and I satisfy my appetite with 
that. 

One who rules his spirit therefore will subject his appe- 
tite to the law of God, which is only another name for the 
law of love and good will. When any question arises, he will 
consult some other guide and law-giver than mere appetite. 

Love of worldly things must be kept in subjection by one 
who rules his spirit. We are not to forget in speaking 
against the world that its objects are desirable and lawful : 
a good education, a comfortable house, the supply of our 
bodily wants in sickness and in health, the money neces- 
sary to procure these and other things, are very desirable. 
It is right ; it is our duty to try to obtain them. So like- 
wise that our neighbors and fellow-citizens should think 
well of us, and bestow on us offices and honors, is pleasant, 
and we may lawfully desire it. 

But these things are to be desired if God thinks it best 
for us to have them, and are to be labored for, only in the 
way which he has marked out. A desire for w r orldly 
things, thus subjected to the will of God, is not inconsistent 
with the most devoted piety ; perhaps I might say, is a 
part of religion. One who thus desires them, rules his own 
spirit. 

I need not say how little of this self-subjected spirit there 



SELF-CONTROL. 98 

is among men. Infatuated by the glare and promises of 
worldly good, men clash on after them, reckless and for- 
getful of any other law than the law of their own desires. 

In this very indulgence must be found the reason of 
many of those complaints so often made, on the difficulty of 
keeping alive the spirit of religion while engaged in busi- 
ness. Suppose you were to see one of your neighbors, who 
had built a temple, put an idol there, and should go regu- 
larly every day and worship that idol. Suppose that in 
conversation with that neighbor, on the subject of personal 
religion, he were to complain that he did not enjoy religion ; 
that he was cold-hearted and lifeless in prayer. Would you 
be surprised ? Would you be at any loss as to the reason 
why there was no communion between God and his soul ? 

But do not think me uncharitable if I ask whether the 
state of many men's minds, in their business hours, is not 
actually idolatrous. Are they not, at least, worshipping 
worldly things ? Idolatry separates between them and 
God. But they can not serve God and Mammon. If their 
hearts are given to the world in their hours of business, 
they can not give their hearts to God in their hours of 
prayer. On this point we must govern ourselves. 

" He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a 
city." The capture of a besieged city has gained for 
many, wide and permanent fame. That was a proud day 
for Washington, when, standing on Dorchester Heights, he 
saw the British fleet with the British army on board, sailing 
out of Boston harbor. Great were the rejoicings, and loud 
the praises of the victorious General, as his army marched 
into the city from which they had just driven the opposing 
force. Prouder and happier was that same Washington, 
when, after seven years of war, he captured Yorktown and 
with it Cornwallis and his array. As the invading hosts 

7* 



94: SELF-CONTROL. 

came out, rank by rank, and laid down their arms at the 
feet of the conqueror, astonished Europe and liberated 
America crowned the victor with laurels. 

Proud too was young Napoleon Bonaparte, then only a 
lieutenant of artillery, when he alone had intelligence and 
skill enough so to plant his batteries against the city of 
Toulon, after the French generals were baffled, that the 
city was taken and the enemy's ships fled in haste. As he 
then went on capturing city after city, men almost wor- 
shipped him as a demi-god. 

But better, that is, superior is he who ruleth his spirit. 
In the estimation of Him who surely knows, he who con- 
trols himself exhibits higher qualities of character than he 
who captures a city. Let us therefore consider, 

2. The great qualities exercised by him who ruleth his 
spirit. Self-control requires great courage, more courage 
than the trade of war, usually considered its peculiar field. 
Alexander Hamilton was a man of unquestioned bravery ; 
he was a brilliant military man. But he was challenged 
to fight a duel. The practice he abhorred ; he said so, and 
left the expression of his opinion on the subject in writing. 
But he dared not refuse ; he was afraid of public opinion ; 
he feared the stigma of cowardice. He w T as bold enough 
to fight, but had not courage enough to subject himself to 
the law of God, and meet the consequences. 

In every party or class of mankind there are demands made 
or measures pursued, against which the consciences of many 
persons revolt. But to subject themselves to the law of 
God, instead of the law of party, would involve conse- 
quences from which they shrink ; to lose caste in their party, 
to be taunted with treachery, to be cast aside as a rejected 
politician, is more than they have courage to meet. 

Even in a school, down among children, the same tyran- 



SELF-CONTROL. 95 

ny prevails, which very few have courage to resist. Many 
children are bold enough to do mischief, and will run the 
risk of punishment in executing their wicked schemes. 
But try to induce those same daring boys to do what is 
right, but will expose them to the ridicule of their asso- 
ciates in the school, or will cause them to be shunned by 
those with whom they wish to associate, and they are per- 
fect cowards. They dare not face such consequences. 

In our higher schools or colleges, this fear becomes even 
stronger. Young men there, will often venture to do very 
bad things at considerable personal risk, because they can 
retire back into their circle of associates and be cheered by 
countenance and encouragement ; or if right-doing will still 
leave them the reputation of being clever fellows, they will 
venture to do right. But if a case occurs where right and God 
and conscience point in one direction, yet in that course they 
will be marked, shunned and stigmatized by their companions, 
their courage fails. They dare not risk such consequences. 

In every circle of young people there is a certain stand- 
ard, a public opinion, or state of feeling, which, though 
not easily defined, is well known and exceedingly power- 
ful. Yery few in palpable cases of right and duty have 
courage to face the consequences of displeasing that circle 
in which they ordinarily move. Perhaps they would risk 
much to secure some personal advantage ; but if faithful 
performance of duty or adherence to principle would incur 
the ridicule or dislike of their circle, their courage fails. 

Better therefore — superior — is he that raleth his spirit, 
subjecting himself to the law of God, than he who taketh a 
city. It demands more true courage than the soldier 
needs. Courage ! yes, you can pick up a regiment from 
the very dregs of society, for of such materials are armies 
usually composed, who shall easily be drilled to stand fire 



96 SELF-CONTROL. 

and fight to the death ; but to train the mind to the cooler, 
loftier courage of obeying God at all risks, is a much rarer 
and harder work. 

He who rules his spirit gains firmness and independence 
of character. Many deeds of bravery, so called, are easy, 
because the actors are sustained by external stimulants and 
adventitious aid. The soldier is animated by spirit-stirring 
mnsic, the gorgeous display on parade ; and in battle the 
excitement of the occasion, the disgrace of cowardice, the 
crowd around him, all arouse and quicken his soul. A 
weak man, nay, even the horse or elephant employed in 
armies, appear to feel the influence of such scenes. It is 
comparatively easy to do right or wrong on any theatre, 
when display, applause, or sympathy, attend and reward 
the act ; very little strength of character is demanded. 

But he who rules his spirit must act without these helps. 
If you feel temper rising, and endeavor to subdue it, there 
is no show, splendor, or fame to reward the act. Perhaps 
no one knows of the struggle, though it may be a very 
severe and painful one in your heart. If they did know it, 
perhaps, they would rather despise than applaud you, for 
not having spirit enough to resent instead of forgiving an 
injury. Such a mind is thrown back upon itself, or rather 
on its God, and acts by the might of its own will, baptized 
by the Holy Spirit. A butterfly or a grasshopper can fly 
with the wind, but it is the eagle that mounts upward to 
the sun ; it is the powerful bird of passage, that far up, 
through storm or light, pursues its daring and untried flight 
toward its northern home. A weak man can do right when 
it is perfectly easy and pleasant ; a strong one can do right 
even when it is unpleasant, or even if there be a " lion in the 
way." 

One who rules his spirit must always stem the current. 



SELF-CONTROL. . 97 

If be indulges his appetites, lie does what is pleasant to 
himself, what most others do, and what will easily find 
apologists. If he crucifies the flesh, no one applauds him ; 
for few know it, or would praise him if they did. 

Two young men were walking up the street, at the close 
of a winter-day. "To one thing my mind is made up," 
said one of these youths; "if I go into business in this city, 
I will conduct my business on Christian principles, let the 
consequences be what they may." "You can't do it," re- 
sponded the other ; "if you go into business, you will be 
obliged to do as others do, or you never can succeed at all. 
Your principles will do to talk about, but money is not 
made in that way, and you'll be a fool if you try." " Well, 
I am determined to make the experiment, and if I can not 
live, I'll starve," was the reply. Could such a stand be 
taken, and consistently carried out, without great independ- 
ence and strength of character ? When did a conqueror of 
a city develop higher and nobler traits ? 

This self-control is the more difficult from the incessant 
and long-protracted efforts which it requires. JSTo one can 
drag out and slay his temper by a single act of will, as one 
kills a serpent, and leaves it there, once for all, dead. !No 
one can put a bridle on his tongue, and tie it up for all 
future time, as one fastens up an unruly animal ; or crush 
the world under his feet by a single act, and leave it there, 
never to rise again. But sin and temptation seem to pos- 
sess a wonderful and almost miraculous vitality. If slain 
apparently one day, they sometimes arise the next, as if 
stronger and refreshed by rest. They assume different 
shapes, put on the garb of angels of light, and clamor for 
gratification. 

He who takes a city, performs his work and has rest. If 
he kills a hostile soldier, or a regiment, the dead men live 



98 SELF-CONTROL. 

no more to resist and fight him. ; but suppose that, as he be- 
sieged a city, the hostile forces were endued with a species 
of miraculous vitality ; that the soldiers shot down on the 
battle-field to-day, should rise up to-morrow, ready and 
armed for another conflict ; that, after months of hard fight- 
ing, he was still to fight on against such revived and singular 
enemies. Something like this is the state of him who rules 
his own spirit. Better, therefore, with higher traits of cha- 
racter, is he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a 
city. 

He aims at the noblest objects. He who rules his spirit, is 
aiming to conform himself to the divine image. God is 
self-subjected to his own law, because that law is infinite 
wisdom, and true perfection. One therefore who desires 
to be subject to the same law, is aiming to be God-like, 
that is, good and noble. Select the greatest secular or poli- 
tical man in the nation ; he is aiming, perhaps, to have his 
name great and distinguished, or to make himself popular 
with the million. He who thus rules his spirit, is aiming 
higher, even to be like God. Contemplate the naval or 
military officer, exulting at the prospect of war, aiming to 
be great by the destruction of enemies. Self-control aims 
at the perfection of love and goodness. Better then is he 
that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city. 

All the elements of greatness then are found in one who 
ruleth his spirit — courage, firmness, independence, perse- 
verance, and noble ends. 

Of all the men I ever read of, Jonathan Edwards seems 
to have been most systematic, earnest, and successful, in 
ruling his own spirit. He began in early life the habit of 
writing down, with great solemnity, in the form of resolu- 
tions, those principles which he designed for his guidance. 
These resolutions he frequently perused, and instituted a 



SELF-CONTROL. 99 

rigid examination into his own conformity thereto. I will 
quote a few : 

" Resolved, never to lose one moment of time, but to im- 
prove it in the most profitable way I can. 

" Resolved, that I will endeavor to find out fit objects of 
charity. 

" Resolved, to maintain the strictest temperance in eating 
and drinking. 

"Resolved, to inquire every night, wherein I have been 
negligent, what sin I have committed, and wherein I have 
denied myself. 

" Resolved, not to act as if I were in any way my own, 
but altogether and entirely God's." 

These were only a few of this man's resolutions, not made 
in some paroxysm of remorse, or broken in the next hour 
of temptation ; but fixed principles. Thus he went on, 
aspiring after the complete subjection of himself to God, 
watching vigilantly his own heart, and urging on to ever- 
increasins: sanctification. Other things he wanted and had; 
but this he desired supremely and intensely, and whatever 
interfered with this, however lawful and lovely in itself, he 
dashed from him as if a mortal and dangerous enemy. Can 
there be a doubt as to the comparative greatness and noble- 
ness of such a man, struggling after the annihilation of all 
sin within him, and the formation of heavenly tempers, so 
that in his sphere he might be God-like — the dispenser of 
good ; and such a man as Bonaparte, plotting in his cabinet 
wars which drenched nations in blood and woe, and pursu- 
ing his way with the calm malignity of a fiend, though he 
must cut his way through human flesh, and drive his iron 
hoof over the lacerated hearts of millions ? Better is he 
that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city. 

My brother, are you ruling your own spirit ? To set 



100 SELF-CONTROL. 

forth your duty and peril in relation to this matter, let me 
take the following supposition : Suppose that an angel of 
God should come to you this clay, bringing a child, just at 
the age when free agency begins, and place that child un- 
der your charge, with this message: "God has sent this 
immortal spirit, which he has just created, to you, and 
given to you the charge of training it. You shall be held 
accountable for the child's character and soul. If you do 
not train up that child holy, God-like, and fit for heaven, 
you yourself shall perish with the child." How would you 
feel? Would you not say : " Lord, in this world of moral 
contamination and corrupt influences, how can I train up 
that child an angel of God ? who is sufficient for such a 
work ?" Would you not despair of doing such a work, or 
at least despair without help from God ? 

But each of you has such a charge ; for when you arrived 
at the age of free agency, your own soul was intrusted to 
your keeping, and on that soul • vmust be enstamped here, 
the incipient image of heaven ; that spirit must be ruled 
or be lost. How then is speeding this great work of thine, 
fellow-immortal ? Is your spirit ruled by yourself, in sub- 
ordination to God ? or is it running wild and untamed, after 
forbidden things ? Are your temper, your tongue, your 
desires, your appetites, your plans, your duties, ruled by 
God ? or are they lawless and selfish ? Is the deathless 
treasure intrusted to you, the immortal spirit, ripening for 
misery, or maturing for happiness eternal ? 



MEANS OF GRACE. 101 



YII. 
MEANS OF GKACE. 

" Seeing ye have purified your souls in obeying the truth through the Spirit." — 
1 Peter 1: 22. 

Our modern religious phraseology has coined and thrown 
into universal currency a term not found in the Bible. The 
coinage is legal and useful. TVe are at liberty to express 
the ideas of the Bible in such form as we may think best, 
but we must be careful that our forms of speech do faith- 
fully carry those ideas. 

The phrase I mean is that familiar one, " means of grace." 
We are said to enjoy the means of grace, or to be destitute 
of the means of grace ; are exhorted to use the means of 
grace ; to get men to attend the means of grace. But I am 
forced to believe that very inadequate ideas are held of 
means of grace, and that great loss and evil result from the 
mistake. 

"What! mistaken on so plain a subject as that? not 
know what the means of grace are ?" 

I will ask, then, any friend who expresses such surprise, 
to tell me what the means of grace are. Enumerate what 
you consider to be such means. 

Tou answer, " Preaching on the Sabbath, prayer-meetings 
in the week." Is that all ? " No ; there are the Sabbath- 
school, protracted meetings, reading the Bible, secret prayer, 



102 MEANS OF GRACE. 

family prayer." Is that all ? " Yes ; I do not think of other 
items which would properly come within the phrase." 

That enumeration would probably embrace all which 
is commonly intended by the phrase, means of grace. ISTow 
as this statement seems to me very defective, and the results 
very disastrous, I will set forth my views at length, com- 
mencing with some preliminary statements. 

1. I will state the general principle, that for improvement 
in aught mechanical, intellectual, or physical, there are two 
essential requisites, direction and practice, or instruction in 
the right way of doing and the actual doing. Both are in- 
dispensable. The neglect of either results in bunglers, not 
artists, or in increasing the labor of improvement a thousand 
fold. The illustrations are so obvious that it may almost 
seem childish to detail them. But the end I have in view 
requires it. 

A young man whom we will call John, is taken by his 
father to an experienced mechanic, to learn the art of ship- 
building. The foreman takes John into the ship-yard, gives 
him a few simple directions, puts a tool into his hands, and 
bids him work. The instructions are brief, the work is of 
the rudimental kind. John applies himself to the task ; 
works at first awkwardly, mistakes his instructions, or blun- 
ders in the exection, even when he understands the theory. 
He sees his mistakes, his fellow-workmen, not in the gentlest 
way ridicule him, and probably the foreman sharply scolds 
him. John the next day tries again, and still the next 
day, and the next, still having his mistakes corrected and 
the true method explained. Gradually he learns ; though 
it may be after tears, mortification, and sharp cuts into 
his own flesh with tools which should have hewn the 
timber. 

The coarse and simple parts of the trade having been 



MEANS OF GRACE. 103 

thus mastered, our young friend is prepared for the more 
difficult and complicated work. The skilled mechanic once 
more gives him directions and sets him. at work. From 
step to step the same process is repeated, till the awkward 
boy becomes the accomplished mechanic ; at first unable to 
hew roughly a piece of timber, he in time becomes the artist 
of that beautiful product of human skill — a ship ; under his 
hand a rude pile of logs and slabs assumes the scientific form, 
the proportions, the life almost, of a fine ship. 

The process is obvious. We adopt it by a kind of instinct 
He would be indeed an unwise foreman, who should expect 
to convert our little apprentice-boy into a skillful ship- 
builder by a mere system of lectures. Let us suppose the 
ludicrous experiment to be attempted. So as I take my 
raw apprentice to the ship-builder, he is put to a daily 
attendance on instructions in the different mechanic arts 
involved in ship-building. An accomplished carpenter 
delivers an elaborate course of lectures on the qualities 
of timber, oak, locust, pine or teak wood ; on the best 
modes of handling the axe, plane or saw ; on the best pro- 
portions between the length, width, and depth of a ship's 
hull ; on the necessity of an exact fit or match for the tim- 
bers ; on the beauty and grandeur of a ship. 

Xext let the skilled blacksmith and painter lecture our 
boy on the qualities of various kinds of iron, on the best 
method of cutting screws, making bolts 5 and forging anchors, 
on the strength of braces for the ship's timbers, on the com- 
parative merits of iron and hemp for cables and rigging ; 
and on the right mixture of oil and lead in colors. 

Thus let our intended mechanic faithfully attend these lec- 
tures for years ; let him understand the theory so well that 
he can lecture on all these topics himself, and what has he 
gained ? He has gained that theoretical knowledge ; he can 



10-1 MEANS OF GRACE. 

tell whether other men have built a ship skillfully or not. 
That knowledge is of course helpful and valuable ; in its 
place indeed, absolutely essential. But what has been gained 
in the end we aimed at, which was to make the boy himself 
a practical, skillful ship-carpenter, himself able to ivork well ? 
Almost nothing. After a life of studious attention to these 
elaborate lectures, put an axe into his hand and tell him to 
hew that stick of timber into the proper form for a ship's 
bow, or to bolt together the parts of the keel, or construct 
one of the spars. He can not do it or can do it only in the 
unskillful style of a beginner. 

This is the universal law of improvement in all trades, 
professions, and arts ; whether one would make a shoe, 
build a house, carve out a statue, produce a picture, become 
a lawyer, surgeon, or artist, a farmer, teacher, or merchant, 
he must know what to do, how to do it, and try to do it. 
What then are the means of improvement ? Of course in- 
struction is one of the means, an indispensable means, but 
perfectly useless when alone. Opportunities of toorJe or 
practice and attempts at doing the thing, are equally es- 
sential. 

The more ships a man builds, the better he can build 
them, and every blow of the adz or broad-axe the young 
apprentice strikes, helps him to become a better mechanic. 
Teach a boy to make a table by giving him a table to make, 
educate the surgeon by giving him limbs and eyes to operate 
upon. Means of improvement are opportunities and at- 
tempts. 

2. All this is so obvious as to be threadbare and trite. 
Yet most strangely is the truth here illustrated overlooked 
in our moral culture and religious growth, of which we have 
a curious illustration even in the very use of the phrase, 
means of grace. By the phrase is meant means of growth 



MEANS OF GRACE. 105 

or progress in goodness. Now goodness is an act or state 
of mind, a series of acts and states of mind conformed to 
the will of God. By a mental law, these states of mind be- 
come easier, stronger, better, by the mind's own attempted 
and habitual exercise of them. The law of improvement 
then is obvious ; we are to become better by opportunities 
and attempts to feel and act rightly. Yet singularly we 
forget this, and expect growth in grace, from means easily 
seen to be preposterous and absurd in other departments of 
life. 

Public worship is a means of grace, and of the service 
a prominent feature is the sermon. But what is the sermon ? 
Perhaps an able theological discussion ; the mind gained 
by it a firmer hold on truth. That is valuable. Perhaps 
it unfolds the consequences of sin and holiness in the end- 
less future. That is valuable, because revealing to the 
mind worthy and powerful motives. Perhaps it states the 
principles of right, the details of duty. That also is valuable. 
The hearer knows the will of God. 

But where is the grace, the growth in goodness, even if 
the sermons have been listened to with profound attention 
and marked effect? The improvement is not yet. The 
hearer is profited just as our young apprentice boy would 
be vastly benefited, if he were to go out from a lecture on 
ship-building, inspired with a noble enthusiasm for the great 
art he was to learn, and were to go to the ship-yard under 
the influence of the lecture, to work hard at his art. But 
his actual improvement in his trade does not begin, till he 
is really trying to do what his master has told him to do. 

So the sermon becomes profitable, and growth in grace 
begins, when the hearer departs to put in practice right 
and duty, and only under that condition. So prayer is a 
means of grace, rightly used, but only as aiding us to right 



106 MEANS OF GRACE. 

mental states and to right acts. The intensest prayer for 
strength to do one's duty, without consequent efforts at 
duty, becomes no means of grace. The study of the Bible 
is of inestimable value as a teacher of all truth and duty, a 
guide and assistant in well-doing, but becomes an actual 
means of grace, only as the stimulant and antecedent of 
right action. 

JSTow multitudes, forgetting the true methods of religious 
growth, and the comprehensive import of the phrase, 
means of grace, find those means they do use of very little 
value, just as the half of a pair of scissors joined to its other 
half is keen and powerful at its work, but dissevered and 
alone is a mis-shapen, worthless, thing. They hear sermons 
without number, and attend meetings regular and occa- 
sional, on Sabbaths and on evenings, and almost cram them- 
selves with religious reading. They are quite conscious to 
themselves, however, of very little growth. They are per- 
plexed. The means of grace they have attended faithfully 
and perseveringly for years, yet have actually made little 
or no advance in grace. Why is it so ? 

They fail to grow in grace, for the same reason that no 
one could grow in mechanical skill, who should attend for- 
ever mechanical lectures, but never put himself to the work 
of a mechanic. He might have theoretic knowledge, but 
he would not be, and could not be, a mechanic. So ser- 
mons, books, and exhortations show what we ought to be ; 
give motives to be and do right, and inform us how to do 
right ; all matters of vast moment, but only as preparatory 
and helpful to the ultimate end. God designs that we 
should he right and act rightly, results attained not by 
theory, but by practice. 

We are thus conducted to the true and comprehensive 
import of the term, " means of grace." Opportunities of 



MEANS OF GRACE. 107 

acting rightly are means of grace. Thus one reads in the 
Bible an exhortation to patience : " Let patience have her 
perfect work," is a duty enforced by the authority of God. 
He next hears a sermon on the same scriptural topic, set- 
ting forth at length the nature, beauty, obligation, and 
rewards of this noble and Christ-like virtue ; and from the 
sermon is roused to a strong desire for this Christian grace. 
He prays that it may be found in him. Now, what has 
been accomplished by all this ? Truly, a certain amount of 
theory, knowledge, and desire has been communicated, 
which are matters of essential importance to the result. 
But has the man made any progress in that grace ? Xone 
at all. There must next be presented to that hearer an 
opportunity for the exercise of that virtue, and there must 
be the actual exercise of it. If he has the opportunity, 
then he has enjoyed all the means of grace, and if he has 
exercised patience, then he has made actual advances in 
grace. 

We gain here some most instructive and spirit-stirring 
views of human life. Life in its outward aspects is chaotic, 
often forbidding. Very much of the work we have to do 
is disagreeable ; the annoyances we meet in life are count- 
less; we are tossed to and fro in this great seething ocean 
of change. Most of the offices and work of this world 
would seem to be very mean and unfit for beings created 
in the image of God. But my view of human life is, that 
it is one vast system of means of grace ; that the Bible and 
human life were designed to play into each other's hands, 
so to speak ; that is, each to be the complement to the other 
as means of grace. There is not a moment in our lives, 
nor any position or circumstances in which we are or pos- 
sibly can be placed, but in each there is a right feeling or 
state of mind to be exercised, or a right act to be done 



108 MEANS OF GKACE. 

with right motives. Of course, then, there is not a moment 
of our lives, nor any possible circumstances, in which we 
are not enjoying means of grace. 

Let me illustrate the statement, purposely selecting the 
most ordinary scenes of life. 

Immense numbers spend most of their time in manual 
labor, in the kitchen, the shop, or the field, in some of the 
countless forms of art, trade, or work. There is generally 
monotony about it, much of it is disagreeable and repulsive, 
it is usually done only because one is thus compelled to 
earn a livelihood. Men's minds do not usually become en- 
nobled by it, it is earthly drudgery, not sanctifying power. 
But see how every part and moment of labor may be trans- 
formed into means of grace. 

We are told that whatsoever we do, we are to do to the 
glory of God. Now let labor not spend Sunday in a beer- 
shop nor in idleness, but in communion with God and in 
drinking the waters of life, and on Monday take his tools 
and go to his work with this truth distinctly in mind : It is 
now the will of God that for the next six days I wield that 
hammer, or toil at that unwelcome drudgery ; the arrange- 
ments of his Providence have made this as clearly my 
duty, as revelation was ever made to Isaiah or to Paul. 
With that truth firmly apprehended, let the mind further 
reflect : " I engage in this particular work, because I am 
employed and paid to do it, or because my domestic rela- 
tions require it ; but, once having undertaken it, it is no 
longer man's work, but God's which I am doing. God 
would have me construct that machine ; God is bidding 
me keep those books, or do that repulsive work ; God is 
inspecting me all the time. Here, then, I strike into it 
faithfully, honorably, cheerfully for God." Thus for every 



MEANS OF GRACE. 109 

minute and act of that day's work, there is the opportunity 
of obeying God, and thus a means of grace. 

Every time a man pays a debt, he has the opportunity of 
doing right from right motives. It is God's money that he 
orders me to transfer to its rightful possessor. I do it to the 
very best of my power. The money so paid is a means of 
grace. Every bargain one makes is a means of grace, be- 
cause it gives the opportunity of applying and obeying the 
law of God. The seller can vend his goods as under the 
eye of God. Every buyer who comes into one's place of 
business can say : " I come here with the rights of God in 
my person. He gives me a right to fair, honorable dealing 
from you, and the manner in which you deal with me will 
be recognized as your treatment of God." So trading, 
would not one grow in grace every day, and very rapidly 
too? 

In every one's daily life there are many and nameless 
annoyances ; the vexations, the carelessness, the rudeness, 
unpleasant manners, the mistakes, the heedlessness, the un- 
amiableness one meets, are countless. They provoke peev- 
ishness, they are the usual incentives to anger, the ordinary 
occasions of fretfulness and irritability. The individual 
matters are very insignificant, and few, I fear, dream that 
religion has aught to do in such petty affairs, yet they are 
the occasions of no little sin. They are the constantly 
recurring opportunities for the exercise of that noble Christ- 
ian virtue, self-control. At each one of the thousands of 
petty vexations which one meets in the course of years, we 
had the opportunity of reflecting : " God will be pleased if 
I control myself, remain quiet and calm without excitement 
or irritability, therefore I will do so." So doing, one has 
countless means of grace. 

All rightful business and work of all possible kinds, 
8 



110 MEANS OF GRACE. 

from the meanest drudgery up to the highest offices of 
state, are means of grace, for in each one the actor can 
reflect : " God will be pleased if I do this work well, there- 
fore I will do it well." Then each well-done piece of work 
is a step onward toward heaven. 

Among the positions in which it is difficult for one to feel 
right, is that in which there is a sense of wrong. In the 
countless rivalships, collisions, and selfishnesses of men, 
there are trickishness, fraud, violation of promises, breach 
of trust, imposition, slanders, extortions, hard bargains, 
over-reaching with consequent losses, injuries, injustice: 
one hates, frets, despises. The sins of others make him 
worse, yet only by their perversion, for they are all means 
of grace. On every such occasion one can reflect: " God 
will be pleased if I feel toward that unprincipled or con- 
temptible wrong-doer, as Christ does. Christ blames him, 
but pities him most deeply for thus treasuring up wrath for 
himself. Christ died for him, bad as he is, and longs for 
his repentance and salvation. I will feel thus toward this 
mean wrong-doer, who has done me this mischief." Would 
not that man grow in grace % 

There is a large class of events which we call trials ; such 
are bodily pains of all kinds, sickness, the death of friends, 
loss of property, loss of reputation, fires, disappointments, 
mental sufferings, mortifications, frustration of hopes, abuse. 
Some of them come in what we call the course of Provi- 
dence \ others by the malice or treachery of men. But 
they can all be traced up to the agency of God, directing 
them, or allowing them. Each one becomes thus a means 
of grace, because it gives the soul the opportunity of putting 
itself into the direct attitude of noble submission to God. 
Thus, under the sharp paroxysms of pain, one can reflect, 
" God's hand wrenches these nerves, and stabs me with 



means of grace. Ill 

that piercing agony ; under his hand I lie quiet, though 
quivering with pain. God took away that property, and 
steadfastly refused to let me have it. God dashed my 
hopes, and disappointed me in my profession, my business, 
my affections. God stands by and lets that wicked man 
plunder me of my rights, or stab my reputation. God sent 
death to tear away my loved idol in the family, and leave 
me a bleeding, palpitating mourner. God mortifies my 
pride ; casts me down from my social position. God does 
all this, therefore I submit. I put myself into his hands, 
sweetly take the cup he prepares me ; ' not my will but 
thine be done.' " Is not he growing in grace ? 

Again, every man's life is strewn with blessings, each 
one affording motive and opportunity for the exercise of, and 
thus of growth in, grace. Every morning, man receives his 
life atresU from God, as really as Lazarus at his resurrection. 
There is a call and place for exercising gratitude to God, 
for the thankful consecration of the new day to him. The 
money you earn is as really the gift of God as though his 
hand put it into yours, as he placed the tables of stone in 
the hands of Moses. Every dollar, therefore, is a means of 
grace, as it puts the soul into direct contact with a benefi- 
cent God, and calls for devout thanks. That comfortable 
house you enter on your return from a hard day's work, or 
from a wild winter's storm, is as really the gift of God, as 
the " house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
That house is a means of grace, being the memento and the 
motive for glad thanks and love to God. 

But enumeration is impossible, for men's circumstances 
are infinitely varied. Sickness gives the opportunity for 
exercising patience ; disappointment, for submission ; bitter 
trials for faith ; insults and wrongs, for forgiveness and self- 
control ; work, for obedience ; comforts and prosperity, for 



112 MEANS OF GllACE. 

gratitude. Thus it is that all things work together for 
good. Is not growth in grace a good ? .the highest, greatest 
good ? If every possible circumstance, if all things are 
means of grace, then all things shall work together for 
good. 

" But you forget," urges one, " there is one class of events 
or circumstances, which must be excepted ; a large class, 
too. We are surrounded by temptations ; they surely are 
not means of grace V } But why not ? for what is a tempta- 
tion ? a position in which there are opportunity and induce- 
ments to do wrong. That is one of the noblest opportu- 
nities for obedience. It is a higher act of honor to God to 
choose right when there are strong inducements to do wrong. 
The man, in temptation, can be a coward, or a weather-cock, 
turned whithersoever sin desires ; but he has the opportu- 
nity of struggle, of victory, of high moral purpose, all 
which make him a better man. Yes, even temptations are, 
or rather may be, means of grace. 

11 Indeed ! then why pray so constantly, ' Lead us not into 
temptation' ? Surely, we need not be afraid of means of 
grace." Because there is great peril in temptations ; they 
may be means of grace, but such multitudes make them 
means of sin, that one may well fear the exposure. Yet, 
once there, he may turn them into means of grace. 

" But there is another class of events, which seem to be 
exceptions. Great public evils and sins, like slavery, un- 
just wars, national crimes ; what grace can come of these ? w 
Very great ; for in the view of such colossal iniquities, 
scorning our impotent attempts to uproot them, as the sun 
might deride our puny efforts to hurl him from his throne, 
how deeply one may feel his weakness. That profound 
impression is for our good. Then, with the deep conviction, 
that these gigantic and well-fortified sins can only be re- 



MEANS OF GRACE. 113 

moved by God, one is irresistibly led to earnest prayer for 
that divine interposition. Whatever leads ns to God in 
prayer, is a means of grace. 

We see the reason why the means of grace, so called, 
work ont so little improvement. Many use these means, 
prayer, meetings, sermons, Bible-reading, very diligently ; 
but they do not grow in grace ; — because they expect from 
them something for which they were not designed, and 
which they can not effect. Indispensable as these are, 
they become effective only when properly used. A rail- 
road is indispensable to the progress of a locomotive ; but 
a railroad without a locomotive, will -not carry us on our 
journey. Tools are indispensable to the mechanic; but 
tools without a workman, will build nothing. Steam is in- 
dispensable to the engine ; but steam without the engine, 
is powerless. So men expect from the Bible and meetings 
that which they were not designed to effect. 

God designs to give precepts, and then opportunities for 
practice. He gives the/ direction, "Let patience have her 
perfect work." The reader solemnly peruses it. Then the 
minister preaches an excellent sermon on the text. The 
hearer likes it — it is so experimental, so forcibly written, so 
impressively delivered. He has used the means of grace ; 
he has done so hundreds of times, yet he has very little pa- 
tience, and is surprised to find it so, when he has read and 
heard so many good things on the subject. 

He only used a part of the means of grace. For after 
the Sunday's sermon on patience, God sent him out to the 
week-day practice of patience. He found in his home- 
duties, and among his children, in his business, and the 
waywardness and stupidity of those he employed, in the 
pains he endured, opportunities for the exercise of patience. 
Instead of using carefully this means of grace, and growing 



114 MEANS OF GRACE. 

in patience by practising patience, he let impatience have 
her work. By a law of the human mind, that all feelings 
exercised become stronger, he grows less and less patient ; 
still sagely wondering that one who so constantly uses the 
means of grace, does not grow any better. 

As well might the boy expect to become a skillful ma- 
thematician, under the most skillful teacher, who should 
hear a lecture on arithmetic, and spend the rest of his time 
in scrawling pictures on his slate. 

We see how God answers prayer / by giving means of 
grace. One reads for instance, "Be ye clothed with hu- 
mility V He hears a sermon on the beauty of that grace. 
Smitten with love for such a heavenly grace, and with ha- 
tred to the opposite Satanic sin of pride, he prays most 
earnestly, most intensely, for deliverance from pride, for 
growth in humility. 

God answers that prayer ; places him in circumstances 
in which his pride is mortified ; he can not live as he could 
wish ; those he would associate with treat him with neglect ; 
he is mortified in company ; he tries to rise in the world, 
and is constantly dashed back by a sort of fate. He frets, 
groans, wonders, weeps, murmurs — grows worse and worse. 

God is answering his prayer. He prayed for humility. 
God is humbling him, giving him the opportunity of exer- 
cising humility. Instead of improving the opportunity, and 
learning the lesson, he quarrels with his Teacher. 

We see how we may obtain glorious, spirit-stirring mews 
of human life. There are two radically different views of 
human life. From one stand-point it is a place of drudg- 
ery, a vale of tears, making us earthly, and tempting us 
into sin ; from atiother stand-point it is all over radiant with 
significance, joy, and ennobling influences. Let me set forth 
the contrast thus : 



MEANS OF GRACE. 115 

I take you to a slave-plantation. Its hundred thralls go 
forth, day after day, to unwelcome drudgery ; ' they work, 
because they must ; because a hard overseer will speedily 
* make some heavy penalty follow, if they do not work. 
They are not lovely and affectionate to each other, for slav- 
ish labor makes them morose and selfish ; there is no ele- 
vation and improvement, for the great end of the master is 
work ; of the slave, deliverance from work. At times they 
are sensual and mirthful, when they fall so low that, for- 
getting they are men, they have the idiotic laugh of a slave. 
Plantation-discipline creates no elevation ; it makes good 
animal-workers. So to mere earthly minds, is life. 

Close by is a farm and school, in which are collected a 
hundred youth, the sons of kings and emperors, placed 
under wise, firm, and kind teachers, to be governed, trained, 
thoroughly disciplined, and fitted in vigor, intellect, thought- 
fulness, and conscience, for their future greatness and re- 
sponsibilities. 

Here all is full of life, meaning, and improvement. The end 
to be secured modifies all the arrangements, and imparts in- 
terest and nobleness to every task. The boys are out at work 
like the slaves ; but their work loses the character of drudg- 
ery, because it is designed to teach them habits of self-con- 
trol, industry, and obedience ; high qualities necessary to the 
accomplished ruler. They have hard study, severe restraint, 
firm government ; their rooms and table, comfortable but 
coarse and rude ; punishment for idleness and stubbornness ; 
the entire absence of all the wealth and pomp of royalty ; 
thus the young men work. All is done to mould them to 
virtue, self-reliance, self-denial, strong thought, to fit them 
for the right use of the wealth, power, and grandeur they 
are to inherit. Thus viewed, the school, the farm-work, 



116 MEANS OF GRACE. 

every part of the system is bright, and the boys, entering 
into the spirit of it, are joyous, full of life and hope. 

Such is human life. God has sons and daughters, whom 
he would train up to be kings and priests. They must be * 
fitted for their exalted station, by humility, patience, in- 
dustry, obedience, love, strong purpose — all noble graces. 
Life is the school, the place for the cultivation of all godly 
virtues ; the varied positions, circumstances, and trials of 
life, are designed for this education-process. 

Let us then understand God's plan, enter into God's plan, 
and life will be life indeed — a new and glorious life. What 
we call drudgery, temptation, sorrow, misfortune, diffi- 
culties, are all resplendent with this glorious end; they 
are to qualify us to be heirs of God, and future kings in 
heaven. 



SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 117 



YIII. 
SHADEAOH AND HIS FKIENDS. 

11 Be it known unto thee, king, that we will not serve thy god?, nor 
worship the golden image which thou hast set up." — Daniel 3 : 18. 

It is refreshing to meet men who have souls. Thousands 
of Babylon's great men, like wooden puppets, bowed down 
to a golden god, because power bade them and vengeance 
threatened them. It would be difficult to count the men 
now, who regulate their principles by the market price ; 
who can not decide a question of right or wrong without 
consulting the political weather-cock ; nor conclude what 
they ought to do, until they have ascertained what it is for 
their interest to do. In the great world-battle between sin 
and holiness, multitudes are like the camp-followers of an 
Eastern army, ready to help whichever side is successful 
and to plunder whichever is defeated. 

Out of this mountain of men-puppets, we find three men, 
not shells of men, men's bodies with animal souls, but real 
men who had souls ; who really believed that there was a 
right and wrong ; that the right was to be done or died 
for. Alas ! the greatest men have oft as little souls as the 
smallest. The great battle ship which can fight with the 
rock-built fort, and defiantly turn her broadside to a shower 
of balls, and only lose a spar or bulwark, springs a leak 
and sinks in the deep sea. A worm, a poor little sea- 
insect, has eaten through her timbers. The great Lord 
Bacon sank, drawn down by a paltry bribe. What num- 
8* 



118 SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 

bers of American great men consider their souls so infinites- 
imally small, that they will sell them for some gilded toy, 
called office ! 

The man who has a soul is worth studying and knowing. 
I propose to offer some thoughts on Shadrach and his 
Friends, under the following divisions : 

I. They had to encounter difficulties. The world resounds 
with moaning and whining over difficulties, from the school- 
boy grumbling at his hard lesson, to men of all trades and 
professions, each of whom thinks his own individual posi- 
tion fuller of vexations than any other man's. Sad and 
ashamed I am to say, that men complain more childishly 
of their difficulties in the religious life. Those who w ould 
not even be suspected of fearing obstacles to any business 
plan, who love even to meet and overcome them, as some 
men love to battle with the wintry tempest, will shrink 
from encountering difficulties in the way of serving God, 
and deem them an ample apology for not serving God. 
Many a female alleges the toils and vexations of a numer- 
ous family as insuperable obstacles to her religious growth. 
The wife of an irreligious husband urges that fact, as an 
excuse for all her worldliness. Men of business expect 
almost as a matter of course that any amount of selfishness 
and inconsistency is to be allowed to them, harassed and 
tempted in such a wicked world. Young persons deem the 
difficulties in the way of their leading a religious life insur- 
mountable, because they live in irreligious families or are 
surrounded by wicked associates. One can not be a good 
Christian, because the Church is in such a sad state of de- 
clension ; another, because temptations are numerous ; an- 
other, because quarrels abound ; another, because he can 
not take up the cross. But all are quite sure that in more 
favorable circumstances they should be most excellent 



SHADKACH AND HIS FKIENDS. 119 

Christians. They seem even to think that these dreams of 
what they would do, if convenient, constitute a sort of vir- 
tue. Strangest of all, they actually deal that out to God, 
as a real religion. 

Difficulties ! It is impossible to be a real man without 
them. What would a boy be worth at twenty-one, who 
had never encountered any difficulties ? who had always 
money for the asking? who had never worked, but when 
and in the degree he liked ? who had never learned a les- 
son but what was perfectly easy ; whose every want had 
been supplied without a struggle of his own ? Why he 
would be simply a great baby. His passions, his emotions 
might be gigantic, while in character he would be puny 
and undeveloped. Why are so many of my hearers, men ? 
because they met many difficulties in their boyhood ; they 
grew up to be men, because they had to do manly work in 
order to grow up. 

Now God does not wish us to be puny Christians, nor 
invalid Christians, but robust, healthful Christians. So 
he educates us among and by difficulties. Therefore he 
put Joseph among heathen in a most ungodly family. 
Moses and Daniel were immersed in the most fearful of all 
temptations, those incident to politics, office, and power. 
Paul was hunted from city to city like a wild beast. 
These three young Jews resided in a licentious and idola- 
trous community, and were surrounded by all the luxuries, 
gayeties, and allurements of a king's palace. Yet they 
served God. They did not cry over difficulties, they went 
on over them ; they did not stop or turn back at obstacles, 
they fought them. None of these men had meetings and 
preaching to grow fat upon. Difficulties were their means 
of grace. They tamed their difficulties and made them 
help in spiritual progress, as some men have tamed ele- 



120 SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 

phants and even trained them to draw their chariots. 
Therefore they grew. 

One, therefore, who does not expect and intend to be a 
thorough Christian in spite of difficulties, may as well not 
try to be a Christian at all. They constitute the school, 
the lessons by which we are educated. If we have any re- 
ligion, it must be developed, not by the removal of difficul- 
ties, but in spite of them, in contending with them. No 
matter what these difficulties are. What are they to God? 
Can they dismay him. Can men or devils put up a bar- 
rier which he can not pass ? or raise obstacles which he 
can not sweep away with a breath ? But he " strengthens 
the soul with all might in the inner man ;" through him 
we can do all things. 

II. They were to meet appalling danger. The whole his- 
tory, with the fact of the wonderful deliverance, is so 
familiar to us, we connect the two together in thought, as 
if these Jews knew what the result was to be, and in con- 
fidence of that, could afford to be apparently heroic. But 
they could anticipate no such miraculous interposition. 
Death in its most terrible form, armed with torments far 
fiercer than ordinary death-agonies, suddenly lays his awful 
hand on them, saying : " Young men, do wrong, only a 
little wrong, every body else will do it ; your king com- 
mands it ; do it, or you shall be thrust in there, and your 
living flesh shall quiver and curl in that horrid flame. Do 
it, and keep life, joy, wealth, and rank." 

How will their religion hold out at such a crisis? Here- 
tofore they had served God and prospered ; will they obey 
God and suffer ? Their prompt reply indicates a character 
not accustomed to do right, after long toil and effort to get 
one's resolution and courage up to duty ; but habituated as 
a matter of course to do right, never dreaming of doing 



SHADRACH AND HIS FRIEND& 121 

aught but right, lead where it might, to a dungeon or to 
a palace — to wealth or to the fiery furnace. " We are not 
careful to answer thee in this matter. Our God whom we 
serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, 
and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king. But if 
not, be it known unto thee we will not serve thy gods, nor 
worship the golden image which thou hast set up." 

Danger ! they feared it as much as the granite rock fears 
a summer rain-drop. 

"Death ! that we are not afraid of, but we are afraid of 
sin. When we gave ourselves to God, w^e meant what we 
said. If God wants obedience, here we give it ; if he 
wants us to burn, here we are." How would such heroes 
regard some of their successors in the Church, who are 
afraid of their own shadow, afraid of a laugh, afraid of 
being looked at, who have to be dragged up to duty by a 
powerful machinery of motives ? 

Here was the religion of principle, in contrast with the 
religion of feeling or emotion. In this whole account there 
is no allusion to joy or fear ; to agitation, tears, peace, or 
emotion of any kind. While the herd of cringing nobility 
with eagerness to outstrip each other in self-degradation, 
crouched before a manufactured god, these men simply had 
to decide the question, Is this required act, right ? That 
point settled, they had no more questions to ask and nothing 
else to do. There were to be no discussions of expediency, 
no time nor energy wasted in devising some scheme for 
serving God and Mammon, no tears for the sacrifices they 
made, no tremor about what others would think of them ; 
no thought whether every body else would worship the 
golden image ; there was neither despondency nor ecstasy. 
The question on which life and death hung, they decided 



122 SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 



with all the calmness and simplicity of little children obey- 
ing a father's command to go on a brief and easy errand. 

Such a religion as that is worth all the tears, joys, 
raptures, frames, that were ever experienced. It must 
do good. Living or dying, they commend religion to 
men's consciences. Do you suppose that either king or 
noble had or could have, any doubt whether their religion, 
their professed fear of God, was a reality ? 

Moreover, such a religion naturally tends to growth. 
The religion of emotion naturally tends to changeableness, 
to decay, to fitful flashes of light and darkness. Emotion 
exhausts the soul, it must lie down and rest. But such is 
the nature of the mind, that principles become stronger by 
exercise. One purpose to do right instead of preparing that 
mind for reaction, only invigorates it to act rightly again. 

I have no quarrel with emotion. I love to see it. It 
hangs about religion like the young leaves about the tough 
trunks and young branches of our trees. But the trunks 
and branches, not the leaves, are the tree. The leaves will 
fade and die. There is periodical change and declension 
in them. The tree lives and grows, and is just as much a 
tree, with all its vitality and strength, w r hen it casts off its 
leaves as when fully clothed with them. So the religion 
of principle, is permanent, and increasingly vigorous. 

On these grounds we are prepared to answer the ques- 
tion, Can there always be a revival of religion ? Now if 
the question were, Can there always be an extra multitude 
of meetings ? can there always be emotion ? of course 
there can not. But if it be meant, Can not the mind to-day 
make it a supreme aim to do right, and do the same to- 
morrow and the day after, and always, and be doing this 
more thoroughly, grow constantly in doing it? certainly 



SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 123 

it can, and ought. Just so far as a revival. of religion is a 
true revival of religion, such will be the result. 

III. They had confidence in God, real, practical confi- 
dence that God was able to deliver them, that he would 
disarm the fire of all power to hurt, and make its fierce 
flames play around them gently and harmlessly as a sum- 
mer's breeze, if he saw fit ; that he could give them the 
victory over pain, they believed ; not assented to, but be- 
lieved. So trusting in God, they walked to the mouth of 
the furnace and felt its horrid breath, as calmly as you have 
walked to this sanctuary. Thus girded with Omnipotence, 
they could triumphantly exclaim : " The Lord is the strength 
of my life, of whom shall I be afraid ? Though a host 
should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear." 
(Ps. 27 : 1, 3.) 

Alas ! our faith is for the most part, little better than a 
barren assent to certain propositions. That God is great 
and good, that he will do right, that his promises are true, 
that he will take care of us, are statements which we receive 
as correct ; we assent to them. But do we receive them as 
realities, which we rest upon as a solid rock ? or as mere 
cloud-banks, to which we are afraid to trust ourselves? Try 
the experiment. Speak to that afflicted one, and tell him 
that " all things shall work together for his good, if he loves 
God," that this is God's own word, that his afflictions are 
blessings. He says yes, but weeps on just as bitterly and 
inconsolably as if you had uttered a fiction. Present to one 
desponding the word of God, " ]STo good thing will he with- 
hold from them that walk uprightly." (Ps. 84 : 11.) " Oh ! 
I knew that," he says, and yet continues to be as miserable, 
anxious, and harassed with anxiety, as though there were no 
God at all. Men are frightened by shadows, and alarmed 



124 SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 

by obstacles, which if they had confidence in God, they 
would brush away like cobwebs. 

The voice of these three young men to you is, Always do 
your duty. You will be often and strongly tempted to 
neglect it. " Come," says Pleasure, arrayed in gay apparel, 
" come with me. Do not sit stupidly over that serious book, 
nor go moping to that dull meeting. Come and enjoy 
yourself, instead of being blue and miserable before your 
time." 

u Indeed," says Worldly Policy, " and are you so simple as 
to suppose that you can do business on strictly religious 
principles? Your less scrupulous neighbors will grow rich 
faster, and are just as respectable men and sound church- 
members as you are. Do business as others do, and if it be 
not quite right, God will not severely mark it." 

" Don't take up that cross," says Indolence. Others sus- 
tain the character of very good Christians, without bearing 
that cross ; why need you trouble yourself to take it up ? 
Moreover, you are young, better wait till you are older and 
gain more confidence in your Christian character." 

" Only for once indulge this sin, and disregard your con- 
science, I will never ask you to do it again," pleads Self-in- 
dulgence. " What a very little matter it is," says Frivolity ; 
" why need you be so stiff and superstitious about a little 
harmless conformity to the world ?" 

" What a fool you are to lose all that we get and enjoy, 
by your silly scruples ; you only injure yourself," scorn- 
fully taunts the World, as she passes by in uproarious mirth. 

" Just see how unreasonable and impracticable are the 
demands of religion — crucify the flesh — give up the world — 
pray without ceasing — deny yourself — take up the cross. 
You can not do it. You need not do it. You will only 



SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 125 

gain to yourself trouble and dielike if yon try," argues Self- 
ishness. 

In these, and a thousand other ways, temptation will as- 
sail you. Oh ! what crowds yield, till their course of life, if 
you can call it Christian life, is like the staggering, uncer- 
tain gait of the drunkard, making progress in all directions 
but the right one, and coming to a dead stand at every ob- 
stacle; rather than the steady, onward march of the earnest 
friend of God. Temptation does not build a fiery furnace, 
and threaten to burn you, but it has seductions quite as 
dangerous to the soul's welfare. 

But the tempter may be challenged to produce a case in 
which better reasons could be urged for deviating from the 
right, than in the one presented to these conscientious young 
men. They were required to perform but a single act, but 
a slight act. The law enjoined it, government ordered it, 
Scripture even could be made .apparently to countenance 
it, for therein it was written : "1 counsel thee to keep the 
king's commandment." (Eccles. 8 : 2.) "Fear thou the 
Lord, and the king." (Pro v. 24 : 21.) Moreover, by com- 
pliance they would retain life, honor, and property. Re- 
fusal would incur the most awful results. Only just one act, 
one moment, and all would be over. Surely it would be 
quite excusable thus to avert a horrible death. How many 
now would stand out against such considerations ? 

But our young men had read a few words in the higher 
law of God : "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven 
image ; thou shalt not bow down thyself to them." That 
was sufficient ; they had no questions to ask, no reasons to 
seek or give, duty was plain, their purpose was fixed. They 
could die, but they could not sin. 

Then God interposed ; the savage flame which slew their 
executioners only embraced them lovingly ; they came 



126 SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 

forth unharmed, to the glory of God and the utter confusion 
of the pagan. Then there went forth a royal decree over 
that immense empire, setting forth the name and worship 
of the true God, making him known to millions, perhaps 
leading many of them to love him. That one act, or rather 
that one refusal to act wrongly, was vast in its consequences 
then, and for thousands of years has been doing yet greater 
good. 

How emphatically God preaches to you by these facts : 
" Always adhere to your duty ; I will control results, and 
compel them to secure the greatest good." You never can 
have a stronger case than this, in which it will seem wiser 
to you to neglect duty than to do it. If they did right, 
then it never can be advisable and best for you, under any 
circumstances, or for any reasons however apparently 
strong, to neglect duty. Let this great truth be firmly 
rooted in our minds. Let the apparent consequences of 
discharging your duty be ever so unpleasant, or even terri- 
ble ; let the supposed results of transgression be ever so 
pleasant or profitable, it is best to do your duty. Then you 
have the pledge of God. When his promises fail, when 
man is stronger than Omnipotence, when we are wiser 
than God, then, but not till then, will it be best to deviate 
from the path of duty. 

Am I then to expect that God will work a miracle for 
my protection, if I will discharge my duty % Of course 
not. But none is needed for the fulfillment of the promise. 
He can easily put the mind in that state in which it does 
not care for outward ills, and even the severest bodily pains 
are not felt. We are told that soldiers will sometimes be- 
come so intensely excited in battle, that they do not feel 
sword-cuts and bullets in the flesh, and do not know that 
they are wounded till the battle is over. Martyrs have 



SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 127 

been burned alive, who while their flesh was consuming in 
the fire, have sung and prayed as calmly and cheerfully as 
these young Jews walked in the burning, fiery furnace. 
Apparently they felt no pain, or, as the Scripture describes 
it, " the young lion and the dragon they trampled under 
foot." In this way God can fulfill his promise of deliver- 
ance, putting the mind in that state in which it has the 
absolute victory over pain ; for what practical difference 
does it make, whether God actually hardens my flesh into 
iron, or so influences my mind that the body no more feels 
pain than if it were iron ? In both cases there is deliver- 
ance. In this way Grod does often fulfill his promise, and 
impart to the obedient one a peace which passeth all un- 
derstanding. 

God can give deliverance also by overruling the events 
of Providence. Some twenty years ago I knew a man 
who was engaged in the traffic in intoxicating drinks. He 
was a conscientious man, and soon perceived the wrongful 
nature of his business and the duty of abandoning it. Yet 
it seemed inevitable, if he gave it up, he should plunge at 
once into the gulf of bankruptcy, dragging with him a 
father, sister, and family dependent on him, and wronging 
his creditors. This made him hesitate. But a sense of 
right soon reassumed its dominion, and after a brief strug- 
gle he resolved to do right and risk the consequences. 
God gave him no intimation of what he designed to do, 
any more than he did to these Jews. He performed his 
duty with the full expectation of temporal ruin and utter 
poverty. God, however, by a series of unexpected events 
opened new channels of business and profit, so that he went 
on more successfully than before. 

Let me therefore commend the example of these young 
Jews to your imitation. There is not, I am sure, a young 



128 SHADKACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 

man here who does not admire their heroism and conscien- 
tiousness, promptly choosing death, any tiling, to a hair's 
breadth deviation from duty. Contrast them with some 
whom you see seeking mere sensual gratification, or doing 
any base, mean thing for money, or like cowards, thrusting 
their heads behind any excuse which will enable them to 
evade duty, or avoid self-denial, or escape the cross. But 
these Jews, like the eagle mounting toward the sun, tow- 
ered upward through fields of light toward God, inquiring 
only, like angels, for his will. Who does not feel his pulse 
beat quicker and all the good within him roused to life, as 
he contemplates such moral beauty, and exclaims: "I would 
be like them ?" 

You can be like them. Would to God it were the sol- 
emn purpose of each of us, " God helping me, I will be 
like them." For the fundamental element of their cha- 
racter, that which constituted its moral beauty, was the 
habitual, fixed purpose to perform their duty, at all times, 
in all circumstances, and with whatever consequences. 
That can be formed and carried out any where and by all 
persons, slave or king, child or man, rich or poor. Though 
you may never stand before kings, nor risk death in the 
fiery furnace, yet every moment of every day you can ask, 
what is the duty of this moment ? and do it. 

Yery many of you are at that age when the mind na- 
turally looks forward. Life is before you, and you antici- 
pate what you mean to do or would like to be. What are 
these future plans ? The attainment of a certain position 
in the world, or of certain pecuniary advantages ? The 
gratification of some ambitious aspirations or worldly de- 
sires ? Are these the main features of the future ? That 
indicates a lack of the elementary trait we have been 
admiring. One who wishes to be like them must make it 



SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 129 

the leading purpose of all his future to do his duty ; to pur- 
sue the business or profession which duty requires ; and in 
that business to follow out the stern principles of right, at 
whatever loss of money, profit, or character — whether poor 
or rich, respected or despised, happy or miserable, to do 
right. Who can not do that ? Who then can not be as 
noble and excellent as these young Jews ? 

' But can not I be a Christian unless I actually adopt and 
practise such principles V It is not my business to calcu- 
late the absolute minimum and lowest possible degree of 
religion, with which there is a possibility of salvation. In 
such an attempt to graze the very edge of hell, one would 
be most likely to fall in. Or if you say that a great many 
pass as Christians who are far enough from such principles ; 
perhaps so. But the fact only proves the deceitfulness of 
the human heart. Do you say, these are hard sayings, who 
can hear them ? There were those, we are told, who, on 
hearing Christ expound somewhat similar principles, went 
back and walked no more with him. Will you also go 
away \ 

There was a man who at eighteen years of age made and 
wrote down the following resolution : " I will do whatso- 
ever I think to be most to the glory of God, whatever I 
think to be my duty ; and resolve to do so, whatever diffi- 
culties I meet with, how many soever and how great so- 
ever." So he resolved when a youth. Through life he so 
acted. That youth was Jonathan Edwards. Read his life 
and you will see that God gave him a hundred-fold more 
in this present life. 

Oh ! what an influence might be exerted if all were to 
set forth in life with these principles. Each individual's 
life would preach the Gospel more eloquently than words 
can do. Banded by such unity of purpose into one holy 



180 SHADRACH AND HIS FRIENDS. 

brotherhood, each church would be like the garden of the 
Lord. God would dwell in his sanctuary, so that no wintry 
season of declension should be known, but one rich and 
joyous revival would ever prevail, to whose living waters 
sinners near and remote would flock for salvation. The 
angels of God would love to descend and hold fellowship 
with his people. Her walls should be salvation and her 
gates praise. She should be called the city of the Lord, 
the Zion of the Holy One of Israel. 



THE FAMILY. 131 



IX. 
THE FAMILY. 

"And the Lord caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam; and he took one of 
his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof." — Genesis 2 : 21. 

When God created man lie gave him two institutions, 
the Sabbath and the Family. Of the complicated apparatus 
of the social state now in existence, nothing then was 
known. This simple fact, that at the origin of our race, in 
our sinless state, when God surely could have designed only- 
man's happiness and good, he instituted the Sabbath and 
the family, indicates their preeminent value. They must 
have been designed to exert a prominent and powerful in- 
fluence in the world. 

One of these institutions has existed at all times 
and among all nations. Wherever man is found, there 
is found the family. In the lowest forms of human nature, 
in the snow- cabins of Greenland, the filthy huts of the Es- 
quimaux, the brutalized tribes of Africa, the most intelligent 
circles of civilized society, the family lives. However diverse 
in religion and custom, Turk, Chinese, or European ; what- 
ever mutual hate and contempt may exist, however separated 
by enmities ; among them all, the family survives, a por- 
tion of that wreck of human happiness which has floated 
down the stream of time, after mankind had lost so much 
at the fatal tree. 

An institution of such wonderful origin and adaptation, 



132 THE FAMILY. 

must have designs and powers worthy of the profoundest 
study. Without entering fully into the philosophy of the 
institution, which would be more appropriate for a book 
than a sermon, I shall offer some rather fragmentary dis- 
cussions in aid, as I hope, of your thoughts. I do it the 
more willingly, because I fear low and earthly views of the 
family are prevalent. Its divine origin and design are for- 
gotten. It is a constituent part of housekeeping ; its mem- 
bers are to be as well cared for as one's means will allow, 
and should live together in peace. Men's views of the 
family are as those of the child who can see in the mag- 
nificent scenery of the heavens, radiant with manifestations 
of God, only a few glittering spangles here and there in the 
darkness, glimmering feebly on his walks ; let the child 
study and know the profounder revelations of astronomy, 
and the dotted dome over his head is the splendid work of 
the Infinite One, unfolding ideas of majesty, skill, and power 
overwhelming. So a deeper insight into the family trans- 
forms the common-place pre-requisite and appendage to 
housekeeping, into a divine institution of amazing skill and 
beauty. 

In the family are concentrated the most potent elements 
and facilities for moral influence. 

Suppose yourself drawing up a plan for a school which 
should involve the utmost degree of right moral power. 
Would not you plan combine these elements ? A teacher 
who should love his pupils intensely, and independently of 
any pay w T ould heartily labor for their good, with ample 
authority to govern : pupils strongly inclined to love and re- 
spect their instructor, easily susceptible to influence, and in 
circumstances favorable to being influenced? With such 
conditions you would expect the best possible results. 



THE FAMILY. 133 

These elements of power are actually combined in the con- 
stitution of the family. 

Love there assumes its most intense form ; the love of 
parent to child surpasses in strength and durability all other 
attachments. Friendships between man and man break like 
glass at the slightest collision of interests ; conjugal love 
often degenerates into indifference or decays into dislike. 
But parental love rarely dies. It often survives the death ot 
morality and principle ; it will live even in the debased and 
profligate, in the felon and miser, like a tree of paradise 
growing in the midst of waste and desolation. We always 
feel that one has reached the lowest depths of degradation, 
is a brute, beneath a brute, when he has lost natural affec- 
tion. God has thus so organized the family, that its ap- 
pointed heads and guardians shall have this quenchless love 
to those under their authority ; he has not merely made it 
the parents' duty to love their children, but has so made 
them, that they can not help loving till some process of 
moral suicide has perverted the man into the monster. 

The power of love is wonderful. Power without love 
may force pupils into good behavior as eye-servants. Mere 
power can beat knowledge into a scholar's mind ; but no 
good influence results, rather the influence is repulsive and 
bad. One placed under such authority, will like, if possible, 
out of sheer perverseness, to rebel. But love united with 
firmness, is like Yan Amburg in his den of lions and tigers. 
Those rough natures, ready to growl and bite at us, will lie 
down at his feet, repay his caresses and cheerfully do his 
bidding. Power without love is like a thunderbolt or a 
pestilence, marching on in its course, grim and powerful, 
which men may tremble at and hate, but not love. Mere 
power, the timid spirit may crouchingly try to propitiate 
or obey, the daring mind may attempt to overturn ; but 

9 



134 THE FAMILY. 

neither on the timid nor the bold will it exert a ri^ht moral 
influence. One can as easily love or affectionately obey a 
sharp dagger as stern power with law in its mouth, sword 
in hand and no love at heart. But let power and love be 
united like the divine and human natures in Christ, then 
one's submission is freedom and joy. 

Now God in organizing the family has combined these 
two elements ; has invested this intense parental love with 
authority almost absolute, to punish, restrain, control ; to 
admit or eject any influence within the family circle, to 
arrange the whole course of education and employment, to 
regulate dress, associates, amusements, and religious instruc- 
tion. This authority is so intimately blended with love, 
that it is rather love itself in action than power, love exert- 
ing itself for the highest good of its objects. Authority 
without love may crush the spirit or exasperate it to resist- 
ance ; love without authority could not control sin nor check 
folly, but authority and love win affection and subdue re- 
sistance. 

And here let me turn aside for a moment to offer a sug- 
gestion on the matter of family government. Some appear 
to maintain that strong family government injures the child, 
and that he will become so much the worse when once old 
enough to get away from parental control. Hence there 
has been a tendency to the contrary extreme of indulgence, 
the abdication of all power, a retreat into a parental weak- 
ness which easily changes no into yes, which so varnishes 
and sugars over a command that it seems like an entreaty, 
resulting in disrespect and contradiction from the daughter, 
in disobedience and insolence in the son. It is true that 
authority without love, harsh, imperious, felt only in re. 
proof and blows, or in punishment so severe that the child 
thinks more of the injustice he has experienced than of the 



THE FAMILY. 135 

faults he has committed ; this may produce reaction. But 
it is also true that indulgence alone will result in the prac- 
tical disorganization of the family, in making the children 
turbulent and disagreeable when young, without much im- 
provement when they grow older. 

There is much sentimentalism about love and reason in 
governing a family. Yes, with firm authority they are om- 
nipotent ; alone, they are powerless with that wonderful 
thing — a human heart. One may talk prettily about it in 
a sermon, but go speak of it to the man of the world as a 
practical thing in his business, he will laugh you to scorn. 
He will tell you : "See that mob with the fire of madness 
in their eye, will a few honeyed words quell them % see that 
selfish man in his bargains, his eye glittering like cold steel 
or the serpent's charmed gaze, will he be upright and be- 
nevolent with a little sweetened sentimentalism ? will human 
passions, hurling their rage like a volcano, rest and sleep 
if you kindly ask them to be still ? The human heart will 
yield only to rightful, good law, and law which holds a 
sword." 

Moreover, we argue duty and use from evident design. 
God has so organized the human body, for instance, that it 
has teeth, hands, feet, they are evidently designed for 
some purpose. We argue the use of teeth, hands, feet, 
from that design. God has given men intellect ; we argue 
thence the duty of cultivating and using the mind. God 
has so organized the family that the parent has authority. 
"Why was this given ? Did God insert this feature by some 
strange mistake in the family constitution ? What is our 
design when in forming a constitution, we place certain 
power or authority in the offices named in that constitu- 
tion ? Evidently that such power be used when there is 
need of it. There can be no doubt, then, that God lodged 



136 THE FAMILY. 

parental authority in parental hands to be used, to be used 
aright, of course, to be used wiselj r , affectionately, to be 
used for government. One, then, who discards the use of 
parental authority, discards a divine system. Like others, 
who suppose themselves wiser than God, they generally 
eat the bitter fruit of their own devices. An ungrateful, 
perhaps ruined man is the legitimate end of a misgoverned 
child. 

Another element of the family constitution, is the pecu- 
liar pliability of the mind when intrusted to parental guar- 
dianship. Most of the human minds we deal with, have 
passed the period for favorable impressions. The preacher 
addresses those whose habits and opinions are formed, and 
if wrongly formed, he can not reach their hearts without 
cutting away a tangled swamp-jungle of prejudice or in- 
terest, or breaking up a thickly-frozen crust of worldliness. 
It has sometimes happened that one has adopted in his 
politics or business, some principle palpably wrong, but 
his love of party or of greed blinds him to the sin, or rivets 
him to the idol which has him entangled, like the serpent 
coiled around the tree of paradise. What can the poor 
preacher do, before such an entrenched castle of error? 

Another has formed his religious opinions and fortified 
them with pride and self-love. Who is strong enough to 
uproot them? Others have imbibed prejudice against 
preachers, or sects, or doctrines, and one can no more gain 
access to such hearts, than light can penetrate solid rock. 
One's labor and influence are therefore expended in some 
cases as vainly, as in the attempt to drive a plough through 
prairie in the winter, when it is frozen into rock. The 
school-teacher can not reach the mind till it has been to 
some extent preoccupied. Bad principles, false opinions, 



THE FAMILY. 137 

evil habits, have carried on their work in the hearts of his 
pupils, ere his work begins. 

But God puts the child into the parents' hands with all 
its susceptibilities unimpaired, impressible by every influ- 
ence, as the floating summer cloud by every breeze. It is 
interesting to see how early and easily impressions begin. A 
look, a smile, enstamps the parents' feelings on the tender 
soul as on melted wax. Have you never observed when 
the infant begins to fix its eye on the mother's face, how 
its own changing features will respond to the expression of 
her eye and mouth ? That fact indicates a susceptibility 
to impressions, exquisitely delicate. You can not so af- 
fect other minds and re-create, as it were, in them a copy 
of your own. They are too hardened or too busy. In- 
stead of impressions, perhaps they have learned in the 
world's rough tuition to consider your looks of kindness as 
the mere varnish of selfishness, which has no more power 
over them, than has a winter's sun to draw life and verdure 
from a snow-drift. • 

This little impressible thing is put into the parents' 
hands ; looks and smiles affect him, words and gestures im- 
press him, daily example educates him, instruction and 
prayer can mould him. On man's hard soul the mightiest 
blows of truth's thunder-hammer only rebound ; on the 
child a look, tones, example, conversation, produce effects. 
Thus for years the process goes on. 

Geologists tell us that they find hard rocks on which are 
the impressions of birds' feet, as sharp and delicate in their 1 
outline as if imprinted on soft clay. That rock was once 
like clay ; in that state a gentle pressure produced impres- 
sions which have lasted thousands of years. Afterward 
you could not have made those impressions, but once made, 
nothing but your hammer and chisel can efface them, and 



138 THE FAMILY. 

perhaps you will break your tools sooner than the foot- 
prints. The plates and glasses on your table were once 
fluid and yielding, the workman could mould them with 
perfect ease to deformity, to beauty, or to use, but he had 
to work fast and at the right time, for soon they became 
hardened. Now you can break them or destroy them, but 
you can not change them. No skill can effect that now, 
which once was so easy. 

Such is the child's mind ; now yielding to the gentlest 
influences, but soon to harden into habits and states which 
all the hammers of logic and fires of appeal will neither 
break nor soften. There it is, father, mother, make it an 
angel or a devil. Cramp it into a mere deformed, ignorant 
thing, or develop it into a noble, true-hearted son of God. 
Dwarf it into an insect or train it up to be a man. 

Another noticeable feature in the family constitution is 
the instinctive respect of children for parents. That respect 
is lost through vice or may be even changed to contempt ; 
parental indulgence will generate in children an impudence 
of manner and speech, which are revolting. Still, child- 
ren by nature respect their parents, and will continue to 
do so, unless compelled by parental folly and sin to do 
otherwise. 

This fact adds power to the facilities for good which God 
has interwoven with the family constitution. You may see 
the necessity of this element of respect, by the following 
case. Put a preacher into the pulpit for whom his hearers 
have no respect ; who by his sins or follies has lost their 
confidence. What can he do ? Nothing. Though elo- 
quent as Apollos, though gifted with genius or learning, 
his sermons would only awaken dislike, and the more sol- 
emn and holy the truth he preached, the more would his 
hearers be provoked to throw back into his teeth the taunt 



THE FAMILY. 189 

of hypocrisy. But put into the same place one whom they 
respect, whose character is pure, consistent, a true exem- 
plification of the doctrines he preaches, though with little 
fire or eloquence ; men will listen candidly and be willing 
to put themselves under his influence. So you may re- 
member that in arguing a case in court at Philadelphia a 
few years since, Daniel Webster pronounced an eulogium 
on Christianity. There was in it nothing new nor very 
striking, yet it w^as extensively published, with the hope 
that the respect widely felt for the man would awaken can- 
did attention to the truth. I have seen some curious illus- 
trations of this power in schools. I have seen a delicate 
girl govern with ease a large school, when its former 
teacher, a strong man, whom the pupils did not respect, 
created only anarchy and resistance. 

This facility for influence, God gives to the parent. For 
when the child's mind opens to consciousness, he finds 
father and mother possessed of strength and performing 
acts, which to him seem prodigies and miracles ; weak and 
dependent, he finds parental love able to provide food, 
shelter, comfort. Indeed the child thinks that the father 
can do any thing, and so will ask him for the moon as a 
plaything, or the stars for his toys. So implicit is the child's 
faith, that the mother can make him believe any thing, 
however monstrous or ridiculous. In very early life, 
parents are gods to the child's mind. On such minds, par- 
ental influence can work out almost any possible results. 

1. We can account for the organic unity of the family, or 
for the propagation and transmission of moral qualities and 
intellectual character, as asserted by phrenologists. As the 
flower is unconscious of the dew which falls on it, and gives 
it health and beauty, so we have seen that the child is sub- 
ject to impressions, long before language or instruction can 



140 THE FAMILY. 

gain access to it, that for a long time after speech and free 
agency begin it is still the creature of impressions rather 
than of logic. He lives and breathes in the moral atmo- 
sphere of the family, and will be, ??ucst be, what that is, as 
surely as the wax must take the form of the mould. If an- 
ger, fretfulness, contention, meet his eyes when he looks 
out from the cradle, or assail his ear when busy with his 
rattle, they pass into him as impressions, and become rudi- 
ments of character, as the seed dropped into the ground is 
to become a tree or flower. 

Thus back of all memory, and of all choice, is the child 
impressed. If the family spirit, the reigning, habitual feel- 
ings and conduct of the family are coarse, sensual, mean, 
passionate, his little ductile nature takes the form and im- 
press of that spirit. When his own actually developed 
character appears, he will be developed as a coarse, passion- 
ate, mean thing. 

The same process will continue after the period of thought 
and individual agency. If the father reads his political 
paper on the Sabbath, the child will take up his romance. 
If money be the supreme object with the father, the child 
will imbibe the feeling that riches are the end of human 
existence. If selfish principles are assumed and acted on 
in the family plans and conversation, the child will grow 
up a base, selfish man. If fashion, dress, amusement, en- 
gross the conversation of the family, the child will soon re- 
gard them as man's chief end. If the father be ill-tempered, 
and the mother fretful, the child will grow up surly or pas- 
sionate ; thus will the governing spirit of the family, by 
the very laws of mental culture and growth, be propagated 
from parent to child. 

2. Let every parent then feel the dignity and responsi- 
bility of his 'position. God designed these facilities for in- 



THE FAMILY. 141 

fluence to be used for the holiness aucl salvation of the 
family. Surely he would not have organized such an in- 
stitution for no use, or for a bad use. He would not have 
the great formative power of the parent used in the service 
of sin. He meant that the wonderful powers of the family 
constitution should be used to train up souls for God. Great 
then is the responsibility of one placed at the head of such 
an organization, plain is the obligation to unfold and use 
aright all the capabilities involved in it. 

This responsibility is not met by making what is called 
a comfortable provision for one's family. That indeed is a 
duty, but only a part of duty. For, O father and mother ! 
God planned this organization mainly for the purpose of 
training up a godly seed. You, as the head of it, are to 
see that that end be answered. Eo other result will be ac- 
cepted. One " provides well for his family." Yery well. 
Bat do not the squirrel and the ant provide well for their 
respective families? Does not the farmer provide well for 
his cattle ? build barns for them, and with great toil lay up 
stores of hay and grain ? Is that enough for immortal be- 
ings, creatures of God, put into, parental charge, and pur- 
posely made ductile, that we might have every facility for 
doing our work thoroughly ? We can do them the greatest 
kindness, or inflict on them the greatest cruelty in the 
world ; we may help them to know God, and train them up 
to be kings and priests unto God, or by neglect deliver 
them over to the temptations and service of the devil. 

No earthly care or culture will meet the divine claims. 
Let worldly love do its work. It has accumulated in its 
coffers overflowing abundance, wealth has compelled every 
quarter of the world to send its tribute wherewith to adorn 
his home ; the sea has yielded up her pearls ; the earth has 
been forced to reveal her secrets, and allow her choicest 
9* 



142 THE FAMILY. 

treasures to be plundered ; commerce has traversed all 
lands to search out luxuries for his table. In winter the storm 
and cold see themselves ejected and defied, comfort and 
warmth within laugh at snow and tempest without. In 
summer, science has compelled nature to adorn his grounds 
with her choicest works. The family is planted in such a 
paradise. There come teachers of all learning and accom- 
plishments to aid each youthful mind up the road to know- 
ledge. The father has fought hard in life's battles to win 
these prizes. He has " provided well for his family." 

But all that has not met the plan of God. Such a home 
may be after all, only a splendid sepulchre for souls, as the 
pyramids, the vastest, costliest structures the world ever 
saw, had only within them — mummies. God wants a living 
soul, not a mummy. 

Neither will this responsibility be met by a good educa- 
tion, as it is termed. The school and the college may train 
the intellect to skill and power, as gymnasts are trained 
to wonderful feats of agility and strength. But they do not 
build a temple for God. The Emperor of Kussia once built 
a palace of ice ; it was vast, magnificent, glittering, it shone 
and flashed in the sun like a house built of diamonds. But 
it was not a home, it was good for nothing but to shine 
awhile and melt to nothingness. We should turn away from 
it after a stare of wonder, and choose the smallest real cot- 
tage with warmth and comfort. So God wants a heart of 
goodness and love, a temple for himself, rather than a mere 
glittering, colossal intellect. 

Neither will this responsibility be met merely by reli- 
gious instruction. Essential as religious instruction is, pow- 
erful as it is, with appropriate adjuncts, its power when 
alone is greatly overrated. There have been cases in which 
children have received excellent religious instruction, but 



THE FAMILY. 143 

Iiave grown up ungodly. On this fact has been grounded 
a disbelief of the powerful influence embodied in the family 
constitution. "Look," say they, "at those children; they 
were well instructed, but they have grown up impenitent, 
perhaps profligate. !No. God's sovereignty, not family 
training, decides the child's character." 

But these facts rightly understood, confirm the views of 
the immense power of family influence; for that influence 
is so strong as to counteract the power of instruction. Long 
before instruction could begin, impressions were flowing 
out from parent to child, stereotyping themselves on his 
impressible nature. The life and spirit of the family, formed 
and controlled by the parent, are more powerful when in- 
struction does begin, than the mere precept which is peri- 
odically doled out to him. While the infant was in the 
mother's arms, the passion, the scolding, the noisy strife, 
were forming the character, and encouraging self-will be- 
fore it could understand the language of sin or of religion. 

Now if the general tone of the family be covetous, proud, 
wrathful, worldly, sensual, of what avail will be precepts 
of love, duty, piety? The child is not a fool, that he can 
not understand the principles on which one daily acts, as 
distinguished from the precepts which are laid down in 
theory. We can not cheat the child into the belief that re- 
ligion is man's chief concern, by telling him so in our for- 
mal teaching on the Sabbath, when he sees that we are 
thoroughly worldly, and act for the world. If the family 
atmosphere which affects the soul as surely as tainted air 
and poisoned food affect the body, if this be worldly, grasp- 
ing, or violent, no Sabbath-lesson, no formal advice, no 
talking of heaven or hell, can counteract that influence. 
There may be catechisms taught out of the books, and quite 
another catechism learned in the life. It might be read 



144 THE FAMILY. 

thus: What is man's chief end? To enjoy himself. Who 
is the Lord, that we may serve him ? Mammon. 

Mere good instruction will not fulfill parental responsibility. 
No one need pacify his conscience for a worldly life with 
his children by teaching and lecturing them. An ungodly, 
profligate minister could not benefit his hearers, however 
orthodox or fervent his preaching. His hearers would only 
be hardened and disgusted. So children study the life. 
Words fall on the ear. Deeds mould the heart. One can 
not plant thistles on his farm all the week and get rid of 
them by telling them on the Sabbath to depart. The cate- 
chism, the Scripture verse, the most vehement declaration 
on the value of the soul, will not mould the character so 
much as daily family life. 

Good instruction, without corresponding example, pre- 
sents religion to the child as the soldiers presented Jesus to 
the mob ; it puts a mock crown on her head, and a purple 
robe of seeming royalty on her shoulders, and then smites, 
derides, and stabs her. 

The parent can only meet his responsibility by being 
himself a good man — a truly good man — not a goodish 
man — a good sort of man, but an earnestly good man. 
What the parent is, the child will almost necessarily be. 
Goodness must constitute the atmosphere in which he lives. 
In the season of impressions, before language is understood, 
goodness reflected from parent to child, like light on the 
polished plate, must daguerreotype its image on the soul. 

A truly good example leads the child to the river of life, 
where he can always slake his thirst while travelling on its 
banks. Religious instruction only brings him a stinted cup 
of the living waters, and they perhaps defiled and adulter- 
ated on the way. 

From this view of the nature and design of the family 



THE FAMILY. 145 

constitution, and the peculiar facilities combined in it foi 
doing good, we see how the child is to be regarded. As 
the infant comes into the family circle, the parental feeling 
should be, that child is to be a Christian, he is put into my 
hands for that purpose, every possible facility is given me 
for that express object, and he assuredly will become a 
Christian. I intend to labor for it, and expect it, with the 
same cheerful hope with which I anticipate my own personal 
salvation. I need not look at him sadly, as the heir of pain 
and sorrow on the earth, with the terrible perad venture of 
eternal pain and sorrow and sin ; but rejoicingly .may I 
welcome him as the inheritor of an existence which is to be 
unspeakably glorious. 

I am no Nebuchadnezzar, to build a Babylon, whose 
walls and palaces will tell of me to latest generations. I 
am no Milton, to utter some inspired epic, to which future 
ages will listen. But I can enstamp on this soul the image 
of God, and that work of mine will live forever. But in 
order to that I must be a good man, for my life will edu- 
cate my child. 

It is good for parents to feel the pressure and spirit- 
stirring impulse of truths like these ; the ennobling and 
wonderful thought that by the form and pressure of his own 
spirit, one is constantly moulding those whom he most loves 
for heaven or for hell, must rouse the soul from torpor, and 
fortify it against temptation. Who could be a bad man, 
with this truth realized ? What Christian would not strug- 
gle and pray with an ever-revived spirit, with such truths 
urging him onward ? 



146 THE FAMILY. 



X. 

THE FAMILY. 

" Behold I and the children which G-od hath given rne." — Hebrews 2 : 13. 

I propose now to examine the Bible, and ascertain how 
far God in his dealings and promises, recognizes the family 
constitution, and has cut a channel, so to' speak, for influ- 
ences and results to flow down in the line of parent and 
child. But I am here met by a difficulty resulting from 
the very abundance of materials. So numerous are the 
facts and passages bearing on this subject, that their re- 
cital must almost inevitably be wearisome, yet, if I do not 
cite them, I fail to present the evidence as it should be pre- 
sented. 

God made this covenant with Abraham : " I will establish 
my covenant between me and thee, and thy children after 
thee, in their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to 
be a God to thee and to thy seed after thee? (Gen. 17 : 7.) 
This covenant was made with those yet unborn, and hun- 
dreds of years before some of them were born. Each one 
was therefore born into the covenant ; came into the world 
with the covenant as surely his, as Abraham who stood 
there before the altar personally agreeing to it. 

It is added : " I will also establish my covenant with 
Isaac, for an everlasting covenant, and with his seed (child- 
ren) after him." (Gen. 17 : 19.) Then, as covenants be- 
tween man and man have ordinarily some outward badge 



THE FAMILY. 147 

or seal, in token of their binding and unchangeable nature, 
God attached a signature or badge to this covenant, saying : 
" Every man-child among you shall be circumcised, and it 
shall be a token of the covenant betwixt me and you." 
(Gen. IT : 10, 11.) "The uncircumcised man-child shall be 
cut off from his people." (Gen. IT : 14.) 

Now observe, it was of great use to the child to receive 
that badge of the covenant ; and it was very important that 
Abraham should affix it to all his family. Circumcision 
became not a mere ceremonial, a form, whose adoption or 
rejection was a matter of indifference, affecting no one's 
welfare; but was to decide the question, whether he who 
received it was or was not to be cut off from his people. 
Moreover, there was the same propriety in affixing the seal 
of the covenant to the child, as to the father ; for the cove- 
nant was actually made to and with the child, as the father ; 
it was with Abraham and his children. 

This covenant was repeatedly confirmed to Abraham 
and Isaac, during their lives. Then to Jacob it was said : 
" God Almighty bless thee, and give thee the blessing of 
Abraham, to thee and to thy seed with thee." (Gen. 28 : 3, 
4.) To the whole tribes it was said : " Thou shalt keep the sta- 
tutes which I command thee this day, that it may be well 
with thee and with thy children after thee" (Deut. 4 : 40.) 
"Choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live." 
(Deut. 30 : 19 ) 

The general promises in which children are included, are 
almost numberless. " What man is he that feareth the 
Lord ; his soul shall dwell at ease, and his seed shall in- 
herit the earth." (Psalm 25 : 12, 13.) "I have been 
young, and now am old, yet have I not seen the righteous 
forsaken, nor his seed begging bread. He is ever merciful 
and lendeth, and his seed is blessed." (Psalm 37 : 



148 THE FAMILY. 

25, 26.) "The children of thy servants shall continue, and 
their seed shall be established before thee." (Psalm 102 : 
28.) " The mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to ever- 
lasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto 
children's children, to such as keep his covenant." (Psalm 
103 : 17.) " Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, his 
seed shall be mighty on the earth ; the generation (child- 
ren) of the upright shall be blessed." (Psalm 1L2 : 1, 2.) 
u A good man leaveth an inheritance to his children's child- 
ren." (Prov. 13 : 22.) " In the fear of the Lord is a strong 
confidence, and his children shall have a place of refuge." 
(Prov. 14: 26.) " The just man walketh in his integrity, 
his children are blessed after him." (Prov. 20 : 7.) 

" I will pour my spirit on thy seed, and my blessing on 
thine offspring." (Isaiah 44 : 3.) " All thy children shall 
be taught of the Lord, and great shall- be the peace of thy 
children." (Isa. 54 : 13.) " The sons of the strangers that 
join themselves to the Lord to serve him, even them will I 
bring to my holy mountain, and make them jo} 7 ful in my 
house of prayer." (Isa. 56 : 6.) " This is my covenant with 
them, saith the Lord, my spirit, that is upon thee, and my 
words, which I have put in thy mouth, shall not depart out of 
thy mouth, nor out of the mouth of thy seed, nor out of the 
mouth of thy seed's seed." (Isa. 59 : 21.) " Leave thy 
fatherless children to me, I will preserve them alive, saith 
the Lord." (Jer. 49 : 11.) " The Lord will circumcise 
(sanctify) thy heart, and the heart of thy seed, to love the 
Lord thy God." (Deut. 30 : 6.) "The Lord thy God is a 
faithful God, keeping covenant and mercy with them that 
love him and keep his commandments to a thousand gene- 
rations." (Deut, 7 : 9.) 

Of Caleb it was said : '• Because my servant Caleb had 
another spirit, and hath followed me fully, him will I bring 



THE FAMILY. 119 

into the land, and his seed shall possess it." (Num. 14 : 24.) 
To Phinehas this promise was made : "To him I give my 
covenant of peace, and he shall have it, and his seed after 
him, because he was zealous for his God." (Num. 25 : 
12, 13.) 

There are historical facts illustrative of the actual descent 
of blessings in the line of the family. The wonderful kind- 
ness of God to the Jews, in spite of all their revolts, per- 
verseness, and provocations, is thus accounted for : " Be- 
cause he loved the fathers, therefore he chose their seed 
after them, and with his mighty power brought them out 
of Egypt." (Deut. 4 : 37.) Afterward, when with depraved 
ingenuity, they seemed to devise new methods of self-de- 
gradation and revolting impiety, it is said : "The Lord was 
gracious unto them, and had compassion on them, and 
had respect unto them, because of his covenant with Abra- 
ham, Isaac, and Jacob, and would not destroy them." 
(2 Kings 13 : 23.) 

In the New Testament we find the same divine recogni- 
tion of the family relation, sending down blessings in the 
line of parent and child. On the day of Pentecost, Peter 
urged thousands of awakened and inquiring sinners to im- 
mediate repentance, stating as the encouragement, "For 
the promise is unto you and to your children.' 1 '' The pro- 
mise ; what promise ? No one is expressly quoted by Pe- 
ter in this place ; but he refers to the promise of the Mes- 
siah, and the forgiveness of sins, so long expected by the 
Jews, so prominent in the national mind, as to have ac- 
quired the name of the promise. This great promise is for 
your children. 

Thus, at the very foundation of the Christian Church, on 
the very first day when converts in regular form were ad- 
mitted to the Church, the children were included in the 



150 THE FAMILY. 

promise made to the Church. The converts did not come 
into the Church and leave their children outside, in the same 
relation to God that heathen children were ; but there was a 
covenant and promise made that day to each child of the 
five thousand men and women, who then were admitted to 
the Church. Whether the child was capable of knowing it 
or not ; whether they were actually born or not, made no 
difference ; an estate can be given to an infant as well as to 
a man. Each father and mother among the five thousand, 
could look on his children as in covenant with God, no less 
than himself. Thus did God, in the first revival, and the 
first organization of the Church, most emphatically declare 
his purpose to make the family state the channel of his spi- 
ritual influences and favor. 

The promises made to Abraham, were designed for each 
Christian. " That he might be the father of all them that 
believe, though they be not circumcised ; that righteousness 
might be imputed to them also. Therefore it is of faith, 
that it might be by grace, to the end the promise might be 
sure to all the seed ; not to that only which is of the law, 
but to that also which is of the faith of Abraham, who is 
the father of us all." (Kom. 4 : 11, 16.) 

Thus we have established in the previous sermon, and in 
this, the following positions : 

God has organized the family as a universal and per- 
petual institution. 

The family organization combines the most powerful 
means of moral influence on its members. 

The transmission of character in the family, results from 
the very nature of such organization and influence. 

God embraces children in the promises he makes to 
parents. 



THE FAMILY. 151 

Character and blessings, as matters of fact, have de- 
scended in the family line. 

We learn from this subject, 

1. The propriety of household baptism. There is pre- 
cisely the same reason for administering the rite of baptism 
to the child, that there is to the child's father. Is baptism 
the token of the covenant ? That covenant is made with 
the child as explicitly, as broadly, as practically, in every 
sense as with the father. Is God the God of the father in a 
peculiar sense ? In that same peculiar sense he is the 
child's God. Surely there is. not, there can not be, any 
^mistake in the position, that all with whom the covenant is 
made should receive the badge of the covenant. 

If it be asked, what good can it do the child ? I answer, 
baptism does the same good to the child as to the child's 
father. Then inquire, what avails it to any one to be bap- 
tized ? The mere form does no one any good ; the mere 
application of a few drops of water, or of a pond-full, as a 
form, does not benefit the child's father, and as a mere 
form, does not benefit the child. Is it right that the father 
should receive the token of the covenant ? Then the cove- 
nant was made with his child as with him ; if one should 
receive the token, then should both. Does baptism help 
the salvation of the father ? Yes, if he fulfill the terms of 
the covenant ; so baptism helps the salvation of the child, 
if the father fulfill the terms of the covenant. If the father 
apostatize, is a hypocrite, will his baptism save him % By 
no means. So the baptism of the child will not save it, if 
it live to be a moral agent and go on in sin. If the bap- 
tized father put true faith in Christ, and if he live a holy 
life, he will be saved ; if the baptized child be consecrated 
to God in faith, and rightly trained, he will be saved. 

If the parent be a true Christian, then the child enters 



152 THE FAMILY. 

the world an heir of the covenant, for the promise is u to 
thy seed." He sustains a very different relation to God 
from the heathen's child. If the man, as an heir of the 
covenant, has a right to baptism as a token of the covenant, 
then the child, as an heir of the covenant, has a right to 
baptism as a token of the covenant. 

Then there has sometimes been started the question, 
What is the relation of the baptized child to the Church ? 
Is he a member of the Church, or is he not ? I answer, he 
is a member, with a right to a part only of its privileges. 
A familiar analogy will show the reasonableness and intel- 
ligibleness of this relation. 

We, as adult, male citizens, are members of that great 
collective body, we call the State ; citizens in full standing 
with all rights and privileges. Our children are also mem- 
bers of the State, without being entitled to all its privi- 
leges ; the child has a right to the protection of the law, is 
bound to obey the law, is amenable to the penalties of the 
Law. Some of the laws, like the school laws, are made 
expressly for his advantage. The State, by its laws of 
guardianship and of property, regards the children as mem- 
bers, objects of its care and beneficent action, as truly as 
the men and women. 

But there are certain duties and privileges of a citizen, 
to which he is not yet entitled ; to which he will never be 
entitled except on certain conditions. He has at present 
no right to vote ; perhaps he never will have. If, on 
arriving at the age of twenty-one, he commits a felon's 
crime he is sent to the State prison, and thenceforth is not 
allowed to vote at all. If the proper conditions be com- 
plied with, then he who was born a citizen, who had for a 
time only a part of the rights of a citizen, becomes a citizen 
in full. Indeed, it is a plain case, that of any associated 



THE FAMILY. 153 

body, an individual can be a member on probation, subject 
to the laws of the body, sharing a part of its privileges and 
entitled either to entire rejection or to admission in full to 
all rights, according as certain conditions are or are not 
complied with. In all this there is no mystery nor confu- 
sion, nothing strange nor factitious, but a very intelligible 
and common position. 

This illustrates the relationship of the baptized child to 
the Church. The Church is God's* kingdom on earth. The 
baptized child is a member on probation. Both the full 
member and the member on probation can forfeit all their 
rights ; but the probationer has a part only of the privi- 
leges. The communion, for instance, he is not allowed to 
receive, until he lias complied with the conditions, which 
are, his own personal repentance and faith. He has 
already been baptized as a token that he was an heir of 
the covenant ; and when he fulfills the terms of the cove- 
nant he becomes a member in full of the kingdom of God. 

2. This is a delightful truth to Christian parents. With- 
out such a covenant, there would be something sad and 
terrible in the commencing existence of a new-born child. 
It is launched out in the sea of life, with the certainty ot 
toil and struggle, of pain and grief on earth, and with the 
most fearful hazards hanging over its eternity. Will that 
babe, if it live to moral agency, be an angel or a lost spirit? 
We do not know. That it will meet fearful temptations, 
that its risks will be tremendous, that its bad passions 
within, before which the bands of moral obligation will 
snap asunder as a thread at the touch of fire, and an evil 
world without, will be a formidable alliance for its ruin, we 
know ; that many a soul created in the image of God has 
been dragged down into the depths of sin, we know. But 
will it conquer ? Will God help it to conquer ? Is there 



154 THE FAMILY. 

any pledge, any ground of hope that God designs to bless 
that child ? Is there none whatever ? Is it to be thrown 
amid awful peril, into that dark future over which hangs 
the dark cloud of chance ? Will it be a Christian or not? 
Without a covenant, no satisfactory answer could be given 
to questions like these, which the agonized parental heart 
will ask. Darkness and gloom gather about the child's 
future. 

But with these truths relative to family institution and 
covenant, light and gladness meet the child ushered into 
the bosom of a Christian family. Its mind is in that state 
of ductility and impressibleness, that parental love can 
fashion it to almost any form, breathe into it almost its own 
will and character. As the trees of paradise imparted 
their perfume to the very winds which lingered among 
them, so was the family influence to imbue and sanctify 
each child which breathed its atmosphere. When Grod has 
promised to bless the parental training, he has banded 
together parent and child in the same promise of salvation. 
The covenant is to you and to your children, as sure to one 
as to the other. Give your own heart to Christ, then take 
your child and give it to him, and you may as confidently 
expect the salvation of the child as your owm. 

In neither case does the promise bind God, irrespective 
of your own personal agency. In your own case you hope 
to be saved, but you expect it on the conditions of vigi- 
lance and prayer ; you expect to struggle with temptations, 
to fight with sin ; you expect divine aid in this process. 
Thus complying with the terms of the covenant, you cheer- 
fully travel on, ever singing as you go : 

" The Lord is ray shepherd, I shall not want. Surely 
goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, 
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." 



THE FAMILY. 155 

So with the family ; the covenant is a family covenant, 
but on condition that the family influence be used aright. 
The promise is not, Train up a child in any way, and he will 
walk in the right way, but, " Train up a child in the way 
he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from 
it." The promise is not, " Sow tares and thou shalt reap 
wheat ; feed the child with the garbage oi\ novels and 
frivolity, and he shall become robust in piety ; teach him 
to worship Mammon and hunt for the golden eggs which 
Commerce has laid, then he will seek first of all a treasure 
in the heavens." 

In faith then sow thy seed, learning a lesson from the la- 
borer in the field. The grain is thrown on the land and 
buried in faith. Storm, snow, frost, come and go. The 
seed is guarded by God, in the form of what we call ' laws 
of nature.' The farmer is quiet and hopeful, for he has 
learned to trust nature, which is his God. But the cove- 
nant which God has made with the husbandman, that seed- 
time and harvest shall not fail, is no more sure than the 
covenant to thee and to thy children. 

When the stranger, therefore, makes his advent into this 
world, he comes with the covenant in his hand ; we may 
receive him as a child of God. His salvation is not one of 
the secret things which belong to God, but one of the 
revealed things which belong to us and to our children. 
One may set about the right training of the child, not de- 
pressed and gloomy, as if after all the result were doubtful, 
but with cheerful hope, with powerful agencies to use, and 
God's promised help to bless. 

Some have talked as if God, in his work of revival and 
conversion, were quite as likely to reach down into the dens 
of sin and ignorance, and select his children out of these 
families of Belial, as to visit the house of the devout Christ. 



156 THE FAMILY. 

ian, and convert the sons and daughters of Christian nur- 
ture. We are told of some monsters of sin, profane and 
sensual, like Aaron Burr, children of the most holy Christ- 
ian parents ; and of the very chief of sinners, as John New- 
ton, a man-stealer and slave-trader, converted into the most 
noble resemblance to Christ. These facts, together with 
the declaration of Christ to the Pharisees, " Publicans and 
harlots shall go into the kingdom of God before you," have 
generated a doubt as to God's family covenant with Christ- 
ians, as to the saving results of right family training, and a 
vague sort of belief that one's children were quite as likely 
to be converted if they were allowed in sin and given over 
for a time to the devil, as if brought early to Christ, that 
he might lay his hands on them. 

It is true that the grace of God is wonderful, the vilest 
of men have been saved, we hope they are to be saved in 
yet greater numbers. True, that the Pharisees, murderers, 
revengeful, perjured, hypocritical, though intensely at- 
tached to the forms of religion, were less likely to be con- 
verted than publicans and harlots ; true, that there are 
apparent exceptions to the power of family training, and 
profligate children have emerged from the bosom of Christ- 
ian families. But these exceptions are only apparent. So 
far as I have ever had means of examination, some gross 
and fatal mistake has forfeited the covenant blessing. 
i Here was a notoriously wicked man, living and dying, yet 
his parents were eminently good and intelligent. But he 
was an only child, spoiled by indulgence, ruined by want 
of government ; never taught self-control, though admira- 
bly well instructed. The promise is to those who train the 
child. He was never trained. 

We learn how the Church ought to increase. God has 
provided for the increase of the Church most naturally and 



THE FAMILY. 157 

beautifully. To each parental member of his Church he 
commits a number of minds, under the best possible cir- 
cumstances for good and permanent impressions ; solemnly 
covenants to be a God to them ; to bless a right training to 
their salvation. In this way the Church was to increase as 
fast at least as families increased. Such growth would be 
healthful. Its members would come in, not half-heathen 
with the false principles and evil habits of the sinful state 
hanging around them ; not with wicked tendencies embed- 
ed in them like a plague-spot or poison ; but intelligent 
and earnest Christians. Christian family training, sancti- 
fied by the spirit of God, would form habits and principles 
in beautiful harmony with the mind of God. The Church 
would be marred by fewer deformities and inconsistencies, 
would shine with clearer light, and its aggressive move- 
ments be more steady and efficient. 

Thus God designed that the family should be the nursery 
for the Church ; that after a few years of culture there, they 
should be transplanted into the family of God, as truly as 
the seedsman is nurturing the infant and tender trees in 
his garden, that they may be placed in our orchards and 
grounds, to adorn them with beauty and bless them with 
fruit. Now evidently it is the gardeners business to train 
and nurture his young plants. to the highest point of thrifti- 
ness, and as soon as practicable transplant them to their 
appointed place. We do not expect him to leave his young 
seedlings to be choked with weeds, or destroyed by ani- 
mals, while he is away in the woods, to find by long search 
and labor some gnarled and stunted crab or wild tree, and 
on its sour and unpromising stock graft good fruit. The 
hope of the orchard and of the farm is in the nursery. 

So the children of the Christian family, who come into 
the world with the covenant of mercy already made with 
10 



158 THE FAMILY. 

them, on whose foreheads the beautiful symbol and pledge 
of the covenant have been placed, are to be trained up for 
the Church. Thus shall Christ's house be fall of symmetri- 
cal, thrifty, fruitful members. 

But I fear it is quite a common belief, that these children 
of the covenant are as likely as any to grow up the servants 
of Satan ; that the garden of the Lord can be as well 
stocked with wild and stunted plants found in the wilder- 
ness. At some time or other by a kind of tumultuous rush 
or effort, an inroad is to be made on this wilderness, and 
numbers grouped and linked together in sin, are to be 
brought back as captives. True, every wild plant we can 
find is to be planted in the garden of the Lord — the more 
the better. But let us work in the channel of the divine 
plan, by a right use of the family institution, give a steady 
and unfailing growth to the Church, and by new conquests 
introduce yet newer accessions to be in their time perma- 
nent sources of increase. 

We might reasonably expect, too, that such additions to 
the Church would not have a type of religion, spasmodic 
and superficial. If religion were made a matter of intelli- 
gent and steady family culture, interweaving itself with 
the family conversation and the family life, it would take 
the form of habit and permanence. The family and the 
Church thus working together, would plant in the heart of 
the community a great central fire, warming into life all 
good developments. 

We receive also noble views of the family. The family, 
like all objects, assumes very different forms, according to 
the stand-point of the observer. The political economist 
regards it as the best means for the health, industry, and 
growth of society. Some frivolous mothers regard their 
children much as those same children regard their dolls. 



TPIE FAMILY. 159 

Some fathers think of the family as a burden which they 
must support ; or as a place where they are teased when 
they wish to be quiet. Some poor men think how much 
profit the wages or labor of their children will be to them, 
when they are old enough to work ; and thus pervert the 
best things to the worst abuse or to their meanest use. 

Multitudes forget the divine nature and end of the fam- 
ily. They are like the boy who should suppose that the 
vast Niagara was created on purpose to turn the little 
mimic water-wheel with which he amuses himself on the 
brink of the rapids. Or it is like the mistake of one who, 
because man was made to work and ought to work, should 
argue that therefore he was made only to work, and so 
should conclude that man's high destiny was fulfilled when 
he had toiled like the ox for his family, or merely defended 
and cared for them. 

In the family, common as it is, there is divine skill ; as in 
the stone which the laborer builds into your dark cellar-wall, 
there is crystallization which God only could form. So 
God has a paradise above, which he wishes to fill with an 
ever-growing tide of emigration from this earth. To pre- 
pare pilgrims for the glorious land, he founded a Church, 
wherein we may be trained up for the skies. To supply 
the Church, he organized the family, and planted one of 
those divine institutions in each house on the earth's sur- 
face. Happy are they who so understand and use the 
family ! 



160 HOPE. 



XL 
HOPE. 

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, according 
to his abundant mercy, hath begotten us again unto a lively hope." — 1 Pe- 
ter 1 : 3. 

Ok a living hope, a life-giving hope. 

It is difficult to form an adequate conception of a mind 
or a world without hope. We only know that all images 
of gloom, dreariness, and terror, but feebly set forth a con- 
dition void of all hope. Suppose the blackest night you 
ever knew, the-darkness so thick, it might almost be felt, 
that no object can be seen, however near ; suppose all this 
to continue, day after day, and year after year, without one 
glimpse of light. How all heat would depart, and the 
earth would swing around, a dead lump of ice ! Yegetation 
ceases, business ceases, houses gradually decay, and fall 
damp and heavy, to the earth ; men in horror and despair 
grope wildly about for a season, howl in anguish, dash 
themselves to the earth, and die. Go to a lunatic asylum, 
and select the saddest wreck of humanity there : it is that 
silent, motionless maniac, sitting speechless, gazing on no- 
thing, and his whole face the embodiment of woe. It is 
one from whom all hope has died out ; he is the stricken 
victim of despair. Of all the dreadful scenes I have ever 
witnessed, the most torturing even to behold, was that of a 
sinner, dying without hope. Indeed, the utter, actual ex- 



HOPE. 161 

tinction of all hope, is a condition of intense, unmitigated, 
perfect misery. Nothing else is needed. That wretched 
maniac has food, home, even health, and has no pain ; yet 
he is purely and inconceivably miserable, from the mere 
fact that he has no hope. 

The effects on the human mind of the deprivation of all 
hope, are most singular. An orderly, obedient ship's crew, 
when all hope of escaping from a wreck is gone, will plunge 
into the wildest excesses, break open the liquor-casks, and 
drink themselves drunk, amid the awful rage of a storm, 
which is to dash them into eternity. A dying man, with- 
out hope of salvation, will in his despair hate and blaspheme 
that God from whom alone can salvation come. A bad 
man, who has lost all hope of becoming better, will in his 
despair become tenfold more wicked. Indeed, take away 
all hope, reduce a man to utter despair, and you strip him 
of his manhood ; he becomes a maniac, a beast, or a fiend. 
Some degree of hope seems absolutely necessary to peace, 
manhood, and goodness. 

Hope makes one buoyant and glad in any circumstances. 
As when the swimmer leaps into the water, he sinks and 
sinks, and to the inexperienced one it seems that he will 
never emerge again, yet soon, by his own buoyancy, he 
rises to the surface, strikes out for the land, and makes the 
water he sank in, support him ; so in earth's misfortunes, 
when a deluge of calamities closes over one, hope rises up 
to the light. Put hope in a dungeon, and rivet on him a 
heavy chain, yet the atmosphere is all light and freedom 
about him. A man with hope can not be unhappy. Even 
in a madhouse, the maniac, whose insanity takes this form, 
is cheerful and glad. The dying, pillowed on hope, are 
calm. If hope takes hold on one's hand, as he passes over 
Jordan, he sings as he plunges into the* chill waters of death. 



162 HOPE. 

When holiness and joy were expelled from our world by 
sin, rising to heaven, their native home, as Elijah let fall his 
mantle, they left hope. 

When men look out into that boundless future, into which 
they expect soon to leap, they must have hope. Some hope, 
in some way, they will obtain. Hence one sees all kinds 
of expedients, desperate and foolish some of them, where- 
with to build or prop up hope. The heathen even, anti- 
cipating an entrance into a dark and unknown future, to 
him trackless and fearful, wants there to meet a god in 
whom be can hope. So be tries to propitiate him before- 
hand ; offers costly sacrifices, and in bis anxiety to come to 
the utmost height of devotion, and bring the most precious 
of all things, will offer his own child, a priceless and living 
victim, to his Moloch. He tries to lay the foundation of his 
hope in blood. What a desire that must be for hope, when he 
will pay as the price the life of his child ! Still again, one 
will try to build up a hope from nothing ; be persuades 
himself that there is no God and no hereafter ; that after 
death there is only blank annihilation ; of course, neither 
suffering nor joy. Thus he hopes to avoid future evil. 

In our Christian communities, there are various materials 
out of which hopes are built. Some hopes are built on the 
shaking and swampy ground of a perhaps or a doubt. 
"Perhaps, after all, there is not the hell we hear of; no 
one has seen it and returned ; we hope we shall escape it." 
" We doubt whether God is so strict as some represent 
him ; we hope he will deal kindly with us at the last." 
Some may be said to lay the foundations of a hope, not so 
much on the sand, as on a fog-bank of mere thoughtless- 
ness ; that is, they forget all about a future state in the 
manifold occupations of life, and hope all will go well with 
them hereafter, because they do not think enough to know 



HOPE. 163 

whether there is any danger at all. Their hope is like that 
of one who should lie down in a boat above the falls of 
Niagara, wrap himself in a mantle of sleepiness or reverie, 
and while his boat was rocked by the swell of the rapids, 
or was poised on the bending verge of the cataract, should 
hope that he was sailing to a safe and happy port. 

It is plain that on all subjects hopes may be groundless 
and foolish, or rational and certain; and one may be just 
as strong: as the other. Of the multitudes who have flocked 
to California, as clouds and as doves to their windows, all 
hoped to gain wealth ; as well those who laid their bones 
in the sand-heaps and deserts, as others who actually 
found the golden deposits. Youth generally have sanguine 
hopes for the future — hope for prosperity, hope for long 
life, hope for many joys ; even those who are doomed to 
the bitterness of a life-long disappointment, and are fated 
to see every earthly hope wrecked and crushed. 

Scripture recognizes this fact in relation to hopes for 
eternity. It speaks of the hypocrite's hope, doomed to 
perish ; of the unjust man's hope ; and also of a righteous 
hope, a good hope, a hope which is an anchor to the soul ; 
of hopes of reaching heaven, which are like the expectation 
of walking on the waves of the Atlantic to Europe ; of 
hopes like the everlasting and rock-built hills, which no 
storms nor changes can move. 

Probably there is not one of us, but has a hope ; we all 
hope that somehow or other it will turn out well with us at 
the last. But it is not for the interest of any of us to be 
mistaken on a matter of such vast personal consequence. 
It certainly is desirable to have a good hope. Let us then 
spend a few moments in the calm examination of our hopes. 
May the Spirit of God enligthen us in our search ! 

1. The Apostle describes the right kind of hope as a 



1G4 HOPE. 

lively hope. " Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, who hath begotten us again unto a livel 
hope" — or, as we should say, a living hope. It is used i 
contradistinction to that dead or inert hope, so common, it 
is to be feared, in all places and ages. One is said to get a 
hope, or to get religion, as the phrase once was. Once 
gained, it seemed to be a dead thing ; or the professor 
dropped down dead in it, and lay almost moveless. His 
hope, instead of being a living hope, and a life-giving hope, 
stirring him up to life and activity, becomes the very nurse 
of spiritual torpor. There is no need now of his being 
active and earnest ; he has a hope. The great end of religious 
effort being gained, what more has he to do \ 

Such an one makes as great a mistake, as one who should 
form a hope and plan of gaining wealth in our western 
streams of gold, and having this hope, should sit down with 
it at home, or as the treasure already obtained. Does he 
hope to get gold ? What a living hope it is ! A timid 
man becomes a hero, and faces the wrath of the ocean, and 
the ravages of the pestilence, because he hopes ; though a 
man of peace, you now see him armed with knife and re- 
volver, ready to face any foe, and fight because he hopes, 
and the thing hoped for he must obtain. The idle man 
now works, and toils with zeal and energy night and day, 
because he hopes to get the precious treasure, somewhere 
hidden in the mines. Such is the power of a living hope. 
It puts the soul upon untiring activity to get what it hopes 
for. The hope that does not thus put a man to the work, is a 
dead hope, or rather it is not properly a hope at all ; it is 
a mere dream or delusion ; it is no more a hope than a 
thing made of wax and paint into some resemblance to a 
man, is a man. True hope is one of the most energetic 
principles that can be breathed into man. 



iiope. 166 

So the Christian's hope is a living hope. It is a hope of 
heaven. But heaven is not a place into which one can be 
floated without effort, or carried forward by the current of 
life, as the river flows toward the ocean. But heaven is a 
place to be readied ; the kingdom of heaven suffereth 
violence, and the violent take it by force. If one hopes to 
take a place by violence, he will use violence. The true 
hope of heaven, therefore, will stir up the soul to reach 
heaven. That object, the salvation of the soul, will become 
a distinct, definite object of pursuit, into which the energies 
of the mind will be thrown. 

This, then, is one mark of a good hope ; it will be a living 
hope. Does our hope thus energize us to act ? or is it a 
sleepy, torpid thing ? 

2. A true hope will find out and work in the right 
direction. The man who hopes to find gold in California, 
does not begin to sink his shaft and work his mine among 
our mountains at home. True intelligent hope would lead 
him to work in quite a different direction. 

So the true hope of heaven will lead one to act in the 
road which leads there. The way to heaven is figuratively 
styled the way of holiness or sanctification. In other 
words, as heaven is a holy place, the hope of reaching 
there will induce one to vigorous exertions to qualify him- 
self for that place. This mark of a true hope, the Bible 
describes thus : li He that hath this hope in him, purifieth 
himself, even as he is pure." This living hope, therefore, 
will stir up the soul to vigorous efforts to become better. 
It will develop itself in some such process as this : 

Christ is my example ; I hope I am his friend ; I will 
try to be like him. How serenely and sublimely he stands 
before the Scribes and Pharisees ! They have taken him 
by bribery and perjury ; they spit upon him : they strike 

10* 



166 HOPE. 

him ; instead of a court of justice they are a mob ; they 
put him to that basest of all punishments, the punishment 
of a slave or a beast, flogging. Bat how calm, unruffled, 
composed ; we hear not a word, we see not a look indica- 
tive of an^er or excitement. How noble his self-control ! 
But when others' rights and wrongs are concerned, with 
w T hat noble and disinterested vehemence he spake. He 
rains down on the guilty heads of those Pharisees, who 
were deceiving and wronging other men, a perfect storm of 
indignation. Hope, then, will put the soal in a process 
of being like him. Hope will stir up one to govern his 
own temper and passions ; to cherish a deep and noble in- 
terest in the welfare of his fellow-men. 

Again, look at Christ as a pattern of duty. For years he 
dwelt in Nazareth as " the carpenter's son." This must 
have been a severe trial of his patience, for think who he 
was; think of his great mind, his large expansive soul, 
chained down to these humble employments. Is this fit 
employment for the God-man ? Shall I have no better 
society than these coarse, rude, and worthless Nazarenes ? 
Yet duty made it all easy. When duty called to a more 
conspicuous but far more perilous sphere of action, he was 
just as prompt. He turned his back on the quiet scenes of 
Nazareth, and entered on most diverse, dangerous, and ar- 
duous scenes. Now he was visiting the sick and weeping 
with the afflicted ; then standing amid vast crowds, some 
of whom were thirsting for his blood ; now instructing the 
ignorant, and now contending with the learned and great ; 
at mid-day, weary and hungry, taking his meal out of 
doors, because there was no door open to him ; at mid- 
night out on the mountain-side praying. 

Thus hope purifieth the soul. The true living hope of 
the Christian puts the mind upon the effort to be like 
him. He that hopes to be with Christ, will try like him 



HOPE. 1G7 

to be faithful to duty. The call to duty will not fall on his 
ear as the notes of the church-bell fall on the dull, cold 
ears of the sleepers in the burial-ground below. But the 
call of duty will be like the morning drum, the reveille in 
a camp of soldiers, at whose beat every man starts to 
action, and comes forth armed for the fight. 

There was a fine illustration of this in a case which I 
find in the history of early missions. Some missionaries 
had been killed by the savage tribes, among whom they 
were laboring, and the intelligence was brought to one of 
the churches in Germany. Those who founded the mis- 
sion invited the church to meet, stated the case, and asked 
who were willing to go and fill the place of the murdered 
brethren. Up rose a number, more than sufficient to fill 
the vacancy, and offered themselves for the work. So hope 
acts, even as He acts. 

Thus let duty call : " Ho ! for the Sabbath-school — we 
want more laborers — who will come up to our help?" 
Hope will stir up the soul to respond : " Here are we, em- 
ploy us." If duty call, "Souls are perishing, here are 
those who will not hear the word of life, who will go and 
speak to those careless ones V Hope answers : " Show us 
the field — here we are, ready for any work for God that 
we can do." So whatever the duty, hope is girded and 
waiting for the summons, and bounds forth at the call of 
duty, as light leaped forth out of darkness, when God said : 
" Let there be light." 

Have we evidence that ours is this good hope ? 

3. Hope, too, will maintain a sturdy and deadly conflict 
with sin, as a fatal hindrance to reaching the great ends it 
would accomplish. A true hope trusts to enter heaven 
where no sin is, and to reach it by a holy path. It must 
therefore necessarily cast off as soon as possible all sins 



168 uope. 

which impede its course. We have an illustration of the 
principle in the thirty thousand emigrants, who started by 
the overland route for the shores of the Pacific. Full of 
hope and life, they left the western shore of the Mississippi, 
with strong teams, well-loaded wagons, and abundant 
supplies. As they travelled onward toward the land of 
gold, their loads are found too heavy for their wearied 
cattle. That load had cost money and was precious ; it 
seemed almost indispensable, necessary as a right hand. 
But Hope said : If you keep this, you can not reach the 
golden streams ; choose between this paltry package of 
goods, and the glittering treasures to which you are travel- 
ling. So Hope cast out the costly goods and wares, and on- 
ward moved the caravan. But heavier and heavier still 
was the way, and Hope threw away still more and more of 
the load, till only the empty wagon was left. That, too,was 
an incumbrance ; Hope broke it up and used it as fuel, or 
abandoned it by the road-side. The cattle then, exhausted, 
gave out ; they were either left behind or used as food. 
There was Hope, on foot and alone, with its steady eye 
fixed on the setting sun, still resolutely travelling westward 
in pursuit of its chosen portion. For hundreds of miles, 
the way was strewn with valuable merchandise, which 
Hope had thrown away, in its eagerness to press on toward 
the goal, to reach and reap the harvest of wealth. 

It is thus with the hope of heaven. Sin is dear to the 
pilgrim, and he would fain carry on toward heaven some 
of the worldliness he has found so comfortable in his for- 
mer residence. But it impedes him, he makes no progress ; 
still it clings to him, and by habit has grown as it were to 
be a part of himself; but he resolutely tears it off and 
casts it away. There are wicked thoughts, bad motives, 
evil tempers, sinful words, worldly indulgences, unholy 



HOPE. 169 

habits ; but as he travels on, one and another is cut off 
and left behind. These sins are like the ropes and cables 
which hold the ship to her moorings ; but as hope fills the 
sails, unless they are cast off, she snaps her fastenings and 
pursues her heavenly voyage. Hope and Sin are antago- 
nistic, necessarily at war. They can not live together, but 
one must inevitably kill the other. Sin cherished will 
destroy Hope, as Banyan represents his pilgrim fast chained 
in the dungeons of giant Despair. Hope true and strong 
will kill Sin. 

Has our hope this characteristic? Does our hope of 
heaven lead us to discard sin ? or at least to maintain a 
constant struggle against it ? 

I am sensible that it may be said in reply to this : " That 
is all well enough in theory, but it is contradicted by facts. 
As matter of fact, hope does not develop itself in this way. 
For every one has a hope, every one hopes in some way to 
reach heaven. But every hope does not thus act. Nay, it 
develops itself in precisely the contrary direction. Instead ot 
being a stimulant to action, it is the very thing which hin- 
ders action and lulls men to sleep. They hope they shall 
reach heaven, therefore it is impossible to rouse them to 
any exertion to reach heaven. Men cling to sin, not cast 
it away, because they hope all will go well with them at 
last. The reason why men will not seek earnestly to be 
saved, is that they hope to be saved." 

True, sadly true. But hope may be founded on a de_ 
lusion as well as on a reality. Men can build hopes as well 
as houses on sand instead of rock. Are our hopes good or 
delusive ? A good one is like the true light-house, guiding 
the ship surely to port ; a false hope, like the false lights 
hung out by wreckers, for the very purpose of decoying 
the ship to the fatal rocks. It is worse than none ; for in 



170 HOPE. 

darkness she might have groped her way to port, but the 
treacherous light deludes her to certain ruin. 

4. The foundation of this hope must be Christ. To enter 
fully on this subject would carry us over the whole ground 
of the atonement, for which there is no time. This only I 
will say : " Christ our hope " is the express teaching of the 
Bible ; that salvation is offered only through Christ ; 
that he is styled the " Corner-Stone ;" that when John 
looked through the door that was opened in heaven, he 
heard the redeemed ones ascribing salvation to Him. who 
had redeemed them by his own blood ; that there is no 
other name given under heaven whereby we may be saved. 
It is certainly wise, then, often and carefully to search our 
hopes. The mind shrinks from a searching investigation as a 
patient from the surgical knife, which is to cut deep into 
his living flesh, even though he knows that it is for his good, 
and that his life may be preserved thereby. So the thought 
of being stripped of all hope, of standing out to one's own 
consciousness, as the victim of eternal wrath and despair, is 
too terrible to be endured. So the mind blindly clings to 
its hope, as travellers in a storm take refuge under a tree, 
while that very tree may attract the lightning which con- 
sumes them. 

• But it is always wise to know the truth, and the more 
momentous the interests depending, the more careful and 
severe the scrutiny. If we buy an article of little value, 
we may be careless whether it be genuine or not. But sup- 
pose we could buy eternal life, and that the title or deed by 
which it was secured was liable to counterfeit : would you 
not scrutinize the deed again and again, and as often as any 
doubt was thrown upon its genuineness, would you not 
search still more carefully, content with nothing but abso- 



HOPE. 171 

lute certainty in so momentous a concern ? leaving room for 
no possibility of mistake ? 

Now we have hopes of heaven. But there are hopes de- 
lusive as well as true. Are ours good or bad ? It is a 
question of life or death, heaven or hell. Now^ if we de- 
tect the counterfeit and reject it, we can secure a good 
hope. But if we unthinkingly and blindly retain it, it will 
be at the last, as if one falling from a lofty tower should 
clutch at a spider's web, which w T as floating by, wherewith 
to stay himself up. The insane attempt would only insure 
his fall and destruction. It is certainly wise, then, to ex- 
amine carefully our hopes. 

There is still another reason for such scrutiny ; it will 
give vigor, depth, earnestness to our personal religion. 
There is a tendency to a sort of timid, self-indulgent, super- 
ficial religion. Now the habit of entering into the depths 
of one's own soul, of communing with one's self and one's 
God, of close thoughts on such high themes as eternal hopes 
and losses, will invigorate the soul, as bracing and vigorous 
exercise on the mountains gives hardihood and elasticity to 
the body. Then let the mind in pursuing this investiga- 
tion, seek aid from such minds as Edwards, and Flavel, and 
Baxter ; let it study the holy and earnest thoughts of such 
men, instead of the mere sweetmeats and syllabub of litera- 
ture, which one finds in the greater part even of our reli- 
gious reading, so called. Such books would give tone and 
vigor to the mind, as surely as the pure and bracing sea- 
breeze converts the languid invalid into the buoyant and 
healthful man. We want a more thoughtful, earnest, reli- 
gious character. 

Oh ! it would do you good to take your soul into the 
presence of God, and there deal earnestly. " Soul, what 
was thy mission on earth ? soul, what hast thou done? soul, 



172 HOPE. 

where art thou hastening ? Speak, for His eye looks steadily 
on thee in this solitude. What hast thou done since the 
golden hours of youth ?" 

" Soul, thou hast hefore thee a black cloud across thy 
path, high, impenetrable to sight ; thy path leads into it ; 
what is beyond it ? Men come to it, ' they shrink, they 
shudder, they enter it and return no more.' Call to them 
and bend the ear, but no answer comes from beyond that 
wall of blackness. Thou too, must enter that cloud. Ah ! 
whither V' 

The present hour, the improvement of the present hour, 
must answer these questions. Lay hold therefore of the 
present hour, as the patriarch of old clung to the angel of 
the covenant : " I will not let thee go, except thou bless me." 
Fill the present hour with penitence and duty, then will it 
pour out on you its treasures of hope ; thus search, and a 
good hope will bless and cheer you, and will prove at death 
" an anchor to the soul, both sure and steadfast, entering 
into that within the vail.'' 



A TRUE REVIVAL. 17'* 



XII. 

A TRUE REVIVAL. 

" For our Gospel Ccame not unto you in word only, but also in power and in 
the Holy Ghost." — 1 Thessalonians 1 : 5. 

About three hundred years after the death of Christ, 
Diocletian was emperor of Rome. He determined to ex- 
tirpate Christianity, and instituted a murderous and pro- 
tracted persecution for that end. Supposing the end 
accomplished, he ordered a monument to be erected with 
this inscription : " To the Emperor who extended the 
Roman empire, who destroyed the name and superstition 
of the Christians, and restored the worship of the gods." 
Poor man ! That monument of stone has crumbled ; his 
colossal empire long since perished ; but that Christianity 
over whose supposed ruin he impiously triumphed, has ex- 
tended over continents and nations, of whose existence he 
never dreamed. " The weakness of God is stronger than 
men." Christianity has a life which neither time nor ene- 
mies can destrov. 

Celsus, a heathen who lived in the second century after 
Christ, attacked Christianity with pen and argument. He 
ridiculed its alleged reformatory power, and said : " Those 
to whom sin has become a sort of second nature, no one 
can change by punishments, and far less by mercy. 
Wholly to change any man's nature, is the most difficult of 



1T4 A TRUE REVIVAL. 

all things."* But what heathenism could not do, and 
Celsus could not believe possible, Christianity has done in 
the hearts of millions. The state of the world shows that 
"the foolishness of God is wiser than men." 

Of this religion we pray and long for a revival. A re- 
vival of religion ! the very words stir the blood. They 
bring up thoughts of holiness, joy, and salvation ; scenes of 
surpassing interest ; scenes where in the felt presence of 
God, heaven and earth seem to mingle. A revival of 
religion ; a new life, more life in the religion of the Church. 
So sacred, indeed, has the very word become, that if one calls 
any particular state of things a revival, it seems to sanction 
and sanctify every thing connected with it or done in it. Any 
hesitancy about joining in any thing and every thing done for 
and in a revival, is deemed wrongful and perilous ; the ex- 
amination of the measures, tendencies, and nature of what 
is done, is deemed a dangerous resistance of the Holy 
Spirit. 

But of this we may be very sure : the better a thing is, 
the more certain that the devil will get up some counter- 
feit. Satan, we are told, is transformed into an angel of 
light. Why ? Because if presenting himself in his own 
hideousness and deformity, he would repel men ; but in the 
garb of light and angels, he hopes to delude mankind. 
Now as a revival of religion is the richest gift of heaven, 
and the most formidable obstacle to the reign of sin, if 
Satan can impose a mere semblance of revival on the 
churches, he works most successfully for his own purposes. 

I propose, therefore, to suggest some thoughts on the ques- 
tion, What is a true revival of religoin f As helpful to 
this, we wish to discriminate between what is and what is 
not essential to a true revival. 

* Neatider, p. 91, 98. 



A TRUE REVIVAL. 175 

There are certain phenomena which, when seen, are 
usually styled a revival of religion. Religious meetings 
are frequent and full ; persons heretofore thoughtless and 
wicked, are solicitous about their own future interests ; 
there is much emotion ; professing Christians are quite in 
earnest in endeavoring to pursuade others to be converted ; 
there is more or less of alarm and excitement among those 
who have hitherto been careless; some, perhaps many, ex- 
press the belief or confidence that a work of conversion has 
been wrought in their hearts. When such phenomena 
appear, we speak confidently of a revival as in actual 
progress. 

It may be, or it may not be. These phenomena are all 
right and desirable ; they will more or less attend a revival 
of religion. But they may exist without any revival at all ; 
for all these phenomena have existed, like bubbles on the 
surface of a community. In a few weeks or months that 
community is in the same state as previous to those phenom- 
ena. Religious meetings are neglected, gayety and worldli- 
ness abound, few are willing to work for Christ. Even 
worse than this : sometimes after such phenomena, worse 
quarrels than ever existed before break out like leprosy in 
that community, from the iniquitous sectarianism of par- 
ties contending for additions to their own favorite churches. 

Some years ago in Lower Canada, there were powerful 
revivals among the French Roman Catholics ; one of their 
bishops went through the country holding protracted meet- 
ings ; immense crowds of Romanists attended these services ; 
there was preaching every clay ; the people were exhorted 
to repentance ; congregations were melted into tears j 
great numbers were intensely anxious about their salvation ; 
the Romanist papers spoke in glowing terms of the happy 
results. But to what were these crowds converted ? Sim- 



176 A TRUE REVIVAL. 

ply this : the} 7 " went to confession more regularly ; observed 
the saints' days more strictly ; avoided the Bible more 
carefully ; hated Protestantism more cordially ; worshipped 
the Yirgin Mary more devoutly ; in short, became more 
bigoted Papists ! These outward phenomena did not con- 
stitute a true revival. 

In slaveholding communities there are these phenomena, 
even more frequently than elsewhere. Meetings, anxieties, 
excitements, tears, converts ; all the mere outward charac- 
teristics of a revival. But what if the converts and church 
members both are just as determined slaveholders as ever ? 
What if the revival of religion, so-called, in a slaveholding 
community has not affected, for the better, the condition 
of the slaves, or led the master to obey the precept to ren- 
der "justice and equality " to his servants? 

In short, all kinds of religionists, Papists, Mormons, have 
their revivals, so called, and their outward phenomena are 
much alike ; a galvanic process, in which stupidity is 
startled into a paroxysm of thought, anxiety, and prayer, 
and then settles back into its own state of torpor and sin. 

Let us then first inquire, What is the meaning of 
the word revive f Pe-vive is to live again, to be restored 
to life and activity. When one has fainted, or seems to be 
drowned, and lies as dead, we say he has revived when he 
is restored to life and activity. One acquainted with gal- 
vanism knows that the application of a powerful battery to 
a dead man, will produce some of the phenomena of life ; 
the corpse will start up, open his eyes, move ; but we do 
not speak of the man as revived. He does not live again. 

It is to be particularly noted that we only apply the 
term to cases in which permanence is implied. Thus in 
our histories we read of the " revival of learning " in 
Europe. The facts are as follows : For centuries, the 



A TRUE REVIVAL. 177 

people of Europe, the masses of them, were as thoroughly 
uncultivated and ignorant as our western Indians. At 
length the subject of education awakened more interest ; 
schools were established; knowledge was diffused. The 
effort commenced and went on for years, and has been in 
progress for six hundred years ; a permanent change. 

We have heard of the phrase "temperance revival." 
Now, suppose you should hear that in some town, noted it 
may be for intemperance, there had been a temperance re- 
vival : what would you expect to find there ? You would 
naturally expect to hear that many temperance lectures 
had been delivered, that crowds had attended them, that 
drunkards had been induced to abandon the use of intoxi- 
cating drinks, probably to sign the pledge, that the matter 
had awakened great interest and engrossed for a time the 
public attention. These would be the outward phenomena, 
very natural and very useful. But you would expect some 
thing else and something permanent ; you would expect to 
find that moderate drinkers had given up their self-indulg- 
ence ; that drunkards were staying reformed ; that respect- 
able men were trying to aid and encourage these reformed 
inebriates to persevere ; that much less liquor was used in 
the town than previous to this temperance revival. 

But suppose, on investigating the condition of that town, 
a few weeks or months afterward, you should find all, or 
nearly all the supposed reformed drunkards fallen back to 
their sin ; the moderate drinkers as self-indulgent as ever ; 
as much intoxicating drink used as before ; you would say : 
" I thought you had a temperance revival f* or, " I heard 
there was a temperance revival." But I think you would 
not say, " there was a temperance revival." So much, so 
essentially does the idea of permanence enter into the mean- 
ing of the term, revival. 



178 A TKUE REVIVAL. 

But if at the end of twelve months, you find temperance 
firmly rooted in that community ; reformed inebriates 
staunchly persevering ; good men firmly adhering to their 
principles, and all united in voting only for temperance 
men; then you would say: ''You had a temperance re- 
vival ;!? or, '• Your temperance revival is going on" The 
proof of its reality lies mainly in its continuance. 

Next let us get at the fundamental idea in the word reli- 
gion. It is in my view obedience to God. In reaching 
it, or as necessary antecedents, there may be fear, terror? 
conviction of sin, mental distress, tears, agitation, repentance 
for sin, trust in Christ ; in other words, conversion precedes 
religion. But religion itself, in its essential nature, is obe- 
dience to God. 

A revival of religion, then, is a revival of obedience to 
God. It is a restoration to life and activity, with perma- 
nence of the thing revived. It is this trait of permanence 
or continuance to which I wish your attention to be parti- 
cularly directed. We have already seen that permanence 
is an essential element in the idea of a revival ; that we do 
not ordinarily term that a revival which is not permanent. 

The thing revived, lives, not dies. If the schools in a 
city were in a miserably neglected state, poorly managed, 
and worse taught, and an effort were made to revive them, 
there would be public lectures, earnest appeals to the pub- 
lic, and vigorous and special effort to arouse attention to 
the great value of education, and awaken a deep interest in 
its prosperity. All that is not a revival of schools ; they are 
but efforts to promote a revival. Resolutions to have better 
schools, lamentations over poor schools, do not constitute 
a revival. If the schools are better for a few days, they are 
not revived. But if they are permanently improved, and 
teachers are better, and pupils are better taught, then we 



A TRUE REVIVAL. 179 

say, There has been a revival of education. Thus furnish- 
ing an additional illustration of the fact that permanence is 
an essential element in the idea of a revival. 

Again, the very nature of religion, as defined, shows that 
a revival, if it he a revival, must be permanent. Emotion 
must be brief, and must result in reaction. If a person be 
in deep agony of mind, and can weep copiously, after that 
flood of tears there is a reaction, and the mind becomes calm. 
If a person spend a few hours in high mirth and laughter, 
he relapses into a state of apathy, weariness, perhaps of sad- 
ness. Intense excitement subsides into stagnant torpor. 
Still, emotions have their use and place ; let us use them 
aright. Emotion is good or bad, as it is used. It may be 
like the fire which warms and cheers when its kindly 
blaze looks out on us from the grate ; but which, sweeping 
ungovernably over a forest, leaves behind only a black and 
barren soil, with the charred and dead skeletons of trees. 

But principle is entirely different ; so far from there be- 
ing any tendency to reaction, principle, the stronger and 
intenser it is, continues to gain strength and intensity. If 
a man be strictly honest to-day, there is no tendency in 
that fact to less honesty to-morrow ; on the contrary, the 
more intensely and strictly honest he is to-day, the stronger 
his principles become, and the more likely he is to be hon- 
est to-morrow. Each day's practice of integrity, gives more 
vigor and permanence to his principles. If you see a man 
intensely excited on any subject, you wait awhile, with the 
certainty that to-morrow, or in a few days, he will get over 
it ; if you find one with strong moral principle, and acting 
in accordance therewith, you expect to find him the same 
upright man to-morrow, and onward the same. In principle 
there is no tendency to reaction, but to growing strength. 
Permanence is its very nature; for if you see a man honest 



180 A TKUE REVIVAL. 

to-day, and dishonest to-morrow, you do not say there was 
a reaction, but that he was a man of no principle at all. 

Now religion is principle ; it is obedience to God ; the 
subjection of the will, thought, and life, to the law of right. 
Previous to obeying God, there may be fears, tears, emo- 
tion ; but these are not religion, though connected with it. 
Conversion is the commencement of obedience to God ; the 
return of a backslider is the beginning of obedience. If 
one thus begin, in that one heart there is a revival of reli- 
gion ; the obedience of to-day renders obedience to-morrow 
more easy and probable. If ten or a hundred thus begin 
and continue, then the whole number feel a revival of re- 
ligion. 

I present these remarks with such amplification and de- 
tail, because fundamentally erroneous views are developed 
by such inquiries as these, which are so common on men's 
lips : " Does the religious interest continue in your church? 
Does the revival continue ? Is the revival over?" Now 
translate these questions into the language of common-sense, 
and they would read thus : ' Has your church ceased to 
obey God ? Have the people in the church, or the persons 
converted, again commenced rebelling against God? In 
other words, has your revival been a sham ; have your ef- 
forts ended in smoke V 

Is the revival over ? If it be over, then it never existed 
at all. If men begin^to serve God, then they will continue 
to serve God. If they obey God for a year, then the re- 
vival continues for a year, and is just as powerful each day 
and each moment that they continue to obey God, as it 
was the first moment of their obedience. If they obey God 
fifty years, then the revival continues fifty years. 

Questions like those I have alluded to, inply in the mind 
of the inquirer an opinion, that a revival is an unnatural, 



A TRUE REVIVAL. 181 

forced, temporary condition of tilings, instead of the com- 
mencement and continuance of obedience. That error in 
relation to revivals will naturally react on his own views of 
personal religion, and he will naturally expect that his own 
piety will be of the same fitful and spasmodic nature; some- 
thing to be lashed up occasionally and temporarily into 
action ; to flash up like a chain of lightning over a black 
sky, and then to subside into torpor. His own progress 
will be like the walk of the mill-horse, ever in the same 
circle, instead of the towering flight of the bird of passage, 
ever onward toward his home. Such minds, in whom the 
root of the matter is not, who sometimes do feel a transient 
glow of emotion, when others feel, and who, quickly weary, 
slide back into the slough whence they emerged ; such minds 
speak of a revival as over. Because they are dead, they 
think others are dead also. There may be certain measures 
or phenomena which are over — the extra meetings — the 
emotions ; but a true revival is not over. 

Again, there are other remarks made, which not only 
imply mistaken views of religion, but are absolutely offens- 
ive to God. Thus it is said that the Holy Spirit is present, 
when some sinners appear to be converted ; the moment 
that work ceases, then it is quite common to speak of the 
" departure of the Holy Spirit." Now, if it be true that 
the supposed converts cease to obey God, and if the mem- 
bers of the Church cease to obey God, then the Holy Spirit 
has departed ; or rather it is to be feared, that he neither 
came nor departed, and had very little to do in such a work. 
But if the converts go on, and if the church members go 
on obeying God, then the Holy Spirit has not departed. 
For there is as much direct and benevolent power of the 
Holy Spirit, in every moment, exerted on the human heart, 
strengthening it to obedience, as in converting it to obe- 

11 



182 A TRUE REVIVAL. 

dience. It must be therefore offensive to God, when he is, 
every day, in hundreds of minds, giving delightful evidence 
of his presence, to hear that presence practically denied in 
speaking of the " departure of the Spirit." 

ISTay, the presence of the Holy Spirit is more marked, 
and to be more gratefully acknowledged, and the power of 
the revival, as a present reality, to be more distinctly re- 
cognized, if converts and Christians continue to obey God. 
For if one exertion of power, on the part of God, be more 
difficult than another, then the work of continuance, or of 
sanctitication, is a greater work than that of commencement, 
or of conversion. Just as, if it be difficult for me to raise a 
weight of one hundred pounds, it is far more difficult for 
me to continue to hold it up for a year, without once put- 
ting it down. If it be a great work for God to convert a 
sinner, it is yet more difficult to carry on that poor, fickle, 
perverse soul a year or a life-time, in the ways of odedience. 

Yet you will hear many persons, when that particular de- 
partment of the divine work, the conversion of sinners, ceases, 
lament the departure of the Holy Spirit. The very man 
perhaps, who would deem it unpardonable blasphemy to 
deny the presence and agency of the Holy Spirit in the 
conversion of a hundred sinners, will practically deny the 
Holy Spirit, who is permanently at work in those converts by 
his sanctifying power, by speaking of the revival as over, 
and the Spirit departed, because the work of conversion has 
for a time ceased. 

These modes of speaking are not only offensive to God, 
but react with the most depressing influence on one's own 
mind. For of all states, either of the individual mind, or 
of the Church, that is the most fearful, hopeless, and fraught 
with future evil, of which it can truthfully be said, the 
Holy Spirit has departed. If one has persuaded himself, 



A TRUE REVIVAL. 183 

therefore, when he does not see sinners converted, that the 
Holy Spirit has departed, he loses all hope, he discourages 
others. They can not pray, they have no heart to work, they 
see only blackness, they dishonor God, they sink into torpor. 

These remarks receive a beautiful confirmation in the 
case of a church I knew some years since. There was 
awakened a spirit of inquiry and prayer ; quite a number 
were converted, they continued in obedience ; after a time 
no conversions took place, but the Holy Spirit was present ; 
the prayer-meetings were fully attended, and solemn ; there 
were growth and good works in the Church ; then in a few 
months again was developed that mode of divine operation 
which converts the soul. There was a revival all the time ; 
there were diversities of operation, but the same Spirit. 
The conversion of sinners was but the commencement of the 
revival, or its indications, not the revival. The revival was 
for the whole year, or indeed for a mucli longer period. 

The question is often asked : " Can a revival of religion 
be permanent ? Can we have a revival all the time j" The 
previous remarks answer these questions. Indeed, such 
questions never could have been asked, unless there had 
been mistaken views of the true nature of religion. Reli- 
gion is obedience to God : the question then is : Can obedi- 
ence to God be permanent, habitual, increasing ? 

That is just the kind of religion which the Bible requires, 
and which it promises to sustain in the soul. The religion 
of the Bible is full of life, energy, and progress, not weak, 
tottering, nerveless. There was a revival in Thessalonica, 
and see how Paul speaks of it: "Our Gospel came to you 
in power ; ye were examples to all who believe ; from you 
sounded out the word of the Lord in every place." Of the 
revival in Collosse, Paul says : " The word of the Gospel 
bringeth forth fruit among you, since the day ye heard of 



181 A TRUE REVIVAL. 

it." They were to be " always abounding in the work of 
the Lord." Our religion and our revivals must be like 
those. 

Religion is life, not death, growth and work, not stagna- 
tion. The Church was not made to be frozen into society, 
and to drift, along with it a powerless inactivity, but to be 
in society a living force, leavening and leading all. One 
of the expeditions fitted out to find Sir John Franklin, 
pushed as far north as practicable, and then became fast 
locked in the ice, the deep frozen masses encircling them 
as with a munition of rocks. There they seemed immova- 
bly fixed. They felt or knew no motion, yet on taking their 
latitude in the spring, when the giant vice which held them 
so fast loosed its hold, they found that they had drifted twelve 
hundred miles, hundreds of square miles of ice having slowly 
drifted, by some mighty ocean current, of almost infinite 
power, bearing the pigmy ship as a feather. So the Church 
is often frozen fast into the cold, dead embrace of the world, 
doing what the world bids them, going where the world 
drags them, drifting in whatever direction the current of 
worldly opinion sets, and following worldly customs, as the 
car follows the engine, even down a precipice. 

God surely never designed that thus it should be, not an 
inert mass in a world dead in sin, like a ship fast locked in 
the ice of a great frozen sea, and drifting into the same 
great gulf of perdition, now and then thawed out, or cut 
out for a little space, speedily to be again frozen in ; but to 
be a living power to direct the world's current toward God. 

But as it is true that the idea has sunk deep in the public 
mind, that revivals must be transient, let me take some of 
the particulars involved in the generic idea of obedience to 
God, and we shall see more clearly the practicability of 
permanence. 



A TRUE REVIVAL. 185 

Prayer is one of the duties and privileges of religion. 
"Behold he prayeth," was the indication of Paul's conver- 
sion. If you are converted you have begun to pray. Can 
not you go on praying as long as you live ? • Can you not 
enter the place of private devotion every morning and 
evening from this time henceforth till death, there seek com- 
munion with God, ask strength and guidance for the day, 
and implore blessings on your family, the Church, the 
world ? Do this faithfully, and that part of the revival 
goes on. 

If any of you have neglected private prayer, can you not 
begin to-day ? and continue ? That continuance is the 
revival continued. 

Some of you who have known the value of prayer for 
years, and have continued therein, have within a few weeks 
learned more of its preciousness and power, as though a 
cloud had broken away, and opened to you a distant view 
of heaven's gates. Can you not continue thus daily to hold 
communion with God ? that is, a continued revival for you. 

There are prayer-meetings in the church. Can you not 
attend at least one each week ? Can you not ordinarily 
make such arrangements by previous thought, as to get 
time for attendance ? Can you not, in your morning devo- 
tions, on the day of such prayer-meeting, earnestly entreat 
that in the evening the presence of God may be felt ? Can 
you not at the meeting try to put your whole soul into the 
exercises ? "Would not such meetings, so sustained, be re- 
vival meetings? 

Again, you acknowledge that you have faults, quite seri- 
ous ones. Can you not systematically, energetically, and 
perseveringly undertake to overcome those faults? Can 
not a bad temper be conquered ? a heedless or evil-speak- 
ing tongue be put under bit and bridle ? all dishonorable, 



186 A TRUE REVIVAL. 

deceptive modes of doing business be abandoned ? all bad 
sensual habits be given up ? all improper amusements be 
avoided? Can not one struggle against the pride, envy, 
revengefulness of his own heart ? Can not these things be 
done to-day, and be continued ? That would be emphat- 
ically a continued revival, a perpetual testimony to the 
presence of God, almost as decisive as the miracles of Christ 
were evidence of the same. 

Further, all of us have duties, varied and important. 
Some of them perhaps have been neglected. Can not fhe 
duties of the day be performed each day for life ? Can not 
family prayer be continued in every house, as long as the 
family exists ? Can not every child of the family be a lov- 
ing and helpful son or daughter? a more affectionate 
brother or sister ? 

Can not every merchant every day try to conduct his 
business on Christian principles % Can not each one try to 
have his daily life consistent and upright ? Just so long as 
these things are done, the revival is in progress. 

One class of these duties are those which we owe to the 
souls of men. Can not every Christian every day pray 
earnestly for the conversion of souls around him ? Has not 
every one each day opportunities of doing something for 
that end ? of writing a letter to an absent friend ? of im- 
pressing religious instruction on the children of the family ? 
of kindly conversing with some of his acquaintances % of 
lending a book or tract to some one likelv to read it % of 
seeking strangers and introducing them to good influences, 
or to the house of God ? Who can not go on in such efforts 
to the end of life ? These very efforts both are, and perpetu- 
ate, a revival of religion. 

Again, the preacher needs to be taught of God. That 
he may so do his work as to secure appropriate results, he 



A TRUE REVIVAL. 187 

needs every day in his study and every Sabbath in his 
ministrations, as really aid and instruction from heaven as 
Paul or Isaiah did ; not a new inspiration into unknown 
truths, but a divine guidance into the apprehension and 
use of old truths. Without it he will be as dry and power- 
less as a teacher of fables, and his hearers listless as the 
dead walls that encircle them. With it, he is clothed with 
God's power, and as God can reach and move human 
hearts, so can the preacher taught of God. You can every 
day intercede with God for such aid to the preacher, that 
he may be wise and Christ-like ; that he may deliver truly 
the message which ought to be spoken. Just so long as 
that is effected, there is a revival. 

Thus we are to honor the Holy Spirit in all his works, in 
the work of progress and sanctifi cation, as well as in the 
work of conversion. 

We see, then, what are the marks of one who has experi- 
enced a true revival of religion. , A revival consists in an 
increase of obedience to God in individual hearts. One may 
therefore test his own revival state by that fact. Is he cul- 
tivating holiness in his own heart % Other hearts he can not 
control ; his own he can. Is the work of sanctification going 
on within ? Is sin daily resisted ? Is it the daily effort to 
purify the life more and more ? Is there a hungering and 
thirsting after righteousness % a desire for holiness ? an hab- 
itual desire to know and do all the will of God ? Such a 
heart has had, and is having, a revival of religion. 

After conversion, there is a work, a life-long work, to be 
wrought in the soul. There are old habits to be rooted 
out ; old sins, strong and fierce, are* to be killed. Faults 
are to be searched out. All virtues, and graces are to be 
planted and cherished ; a new character is to be formed ; 
the world is to be kept in its proper place ; self is to be 



188 A TRUE REVIVAL. 

crucified. Is not this a great work, the work of the Holy 
Spirit ? If so, then the hand of God is most devoutly to be 
acknowledged in it as a work of revival in actual progress. 

To such an extent have the need and duty of growth 
dropped ont of the public sentiment of the churches, that 
very few rightly reflect on the vast work which yet needs 
to be wrought in their souls. Comparing ourselves with our- 
selves, we are not wise ; we lose sight of the true Christian 
standard. The young convert looks around and sees no 
very great work going on in the hearts of men. We look 
at each other and are prone to be satisfied if we are as 
good as the average. We forget what a mighty life-giving 
influence is needed for us every clay. We expect no one 
to be converted without special and great power ; but we 
seem to think that we can go on afterward, without such 
special aid. 

Look then at the lofty Bible standard and see what a 
work is involved in the attainment of that. Nothing less 
than a constant revival, and the great power of God, will 
suffice. " Let the same mind be in you which was also in 
Christ Jesus." What ! the same mind ? the same willing- 
ness to die in God's service ? the same spirit of forgiveness ? 
of heroism? of self-denial? of self-sacrifice? Is that re- 
quired of me ? Yes ! Then what a work still remains to 
be wrought in my soul ! 

" Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." All 
things ? Have my thoughts pure and holy ? govern my 
tongue so that it will utter only words of purity and wis- 
dom ? Perform my work and trade so that they will be 
acceptable to God as pure and holy acts ? so that every 
bargain will be in strict conformity to the law : ' Thou 
shalt love thy neighbor as thyself?' Have such faith that 
my prayers shall daily prevail with God ? Overcome all 



A TRUE REVIVAL. 189 

things ? resist all sin and temptation, and put them under 
my feet ? Do all this ? Certainly ! Then indeed is a 
great work to be done. 

Is that work going on in your soul ? I do not ask 
whether it is accomplished, nor whether it is very far ad- 
vanced. But is it in progress ? are you pressing on 
toward it ? If there is progress now, then there is revival 
now. 

Another mark of a revival is, the Qhurch doing its own 
vjork better. The true Church work will be understood, by 
reverting to the true idea of a Church. What is a Church ? 
Not a collection of people who occupy seats in the same 
house ; not a fortuitous aggregation of hearers to listen to a 
religious lecture ; not a stated assemblage of the same per- 
sons at the communion-table ; not a body of people to be 
governed ; not a great ecclesiastical body with its hierarch- 
ies, its courts, its laws, its vast machinery, its appeals to 
ambition and love of power. A Church is a body of 
Christian people associated in covenant to be helpful to 
each other in the work of the Lord. They need mutual 
love, mutual confidence and systematic work for Christ. 

As true religion declines, the Church loses its simplicity, 
and degenerates into a worldly corporation, neglects its 
own appropriate work, resolves itself into parties, builds 
up its hierarchies, rests in its numbers, on the power and 
social position of its members, and strengthens its judica- 
tories. When religion is truly revived, then the Church 
returns to its own work ; a sympathy and attraction grow 
up between the members ; by often praying together they 
forget all other distinctions in the one general fact, that 
they all love the same Saviour, and are seeking the same 
great ends. One sees friendliness, kindly greetings, mutual 
sympathy. If one is in trouble all the members feel for 

11* 



190 A TRUE REVIVAL. 

liim and pray for liim. The younger Christians will be 
cheered and kindly watched. In short, the true idea of 
brotherhood is carried out to the utmost practicable ex- 
tent. 

The same tendency will be seen in the prayer-meetings. 
Formality, heartless exhortation and pharisaic prayer will 
be exchanged for life and faith. Brought back to the true 
idea of Christian conference, they counsel, encourage, and 
aid each other by a few burning words of love, penitence, 
and entreaty. The prayer is like the commingling of 
many waters, rolling onward to the throne of God. 

The Sabbath-school will be conducted with new energy ; 
teacher and pupil glow and love, as the word of truth finds 
a response in the young heart. Missions are loved and 
aided. All join in sustained efforts to bring sinners to 
Christ. Men need not be dragged up to their duty, or 
driven to it by conscience ; but when there is work to be 
done, ready and prompt are Christ's laborers. 

Thus a church revived will be a more harmonious work- 
ing church. 

There are some views of revivals which have perplexed 
many minds, and which have been expressed somewhat in 
this form : A revival, it is supposed, can not take place 
without being made the exclusive subject of attention, by a 
large portion of the church and of the community. When 
it ceases to be thus absorbingly the object of thought and 
effort, it must stop. So essential has this exclusiveness 
been deemed, that if matters of acknowledged importance, 
objects which are good, objects which it is the duty of the 
Church to think of and act for, receive any attention, they 
stop a revival. 

Persons have been perplexed, and have reasoned thus : 
" We wish a perpetual revival ; there ought to be a per- 



A TRUE REVIVAL. 101 

petual revival. Bat it appears we can only make it per- 
petual by abandoning all good objects; that if we try to 
urge on men their varied and comprehensive duties; duties 
to the ignorant, the oppressed, the intemperate, the heathen ; 
duties most plain, then we can not have a constant revival. 
We seem then to be involved in this most singular incon- 
sistency, that we grieve the Spirit by a performance of 
those very duties which are enjoined on us by God. The 
wonder seems greater when we reflect that a true revival 
is a revival of true obedience to God ; obedience in all 
graces and duties ; yet when we try to obey God by per- 
forming the whole circle of our duties, toward all the 
forms of human sin and suffering, then the revival ceases, 
or in other words, the Spirit is grieved by the very effort to 
obey him ; or obedience to God tends to check obedience 
to God." 

When men have been perplexed by these thoughts, they 
have been told : " Oh ! wait till the revival is over, then at- 
tend to these other matters." But they have replied : 
" Wait? but I do not wish ever to have the revival over ; 
moreover, if it be a revival of religion, a revival of obe- 
dience, then it will not be over. Surely I am not to wait 
till there is less religion, less obedience, before I engage in 
every good word and work, and urge men to do so likewise. 
Further, as sooner or later I must perform these other 
duties ; as we are under the plainest obligations to do some- 
thing for the drunkard, the ignorant, the oppressed, the 
heathen, then sooner or later I must take measures to. stop 
the revival, for these measures will stop the revival. Here 
then seem to be placed in strange antagonism, two classes 
of duties ; a revival of religion to some part at least of the 
duties and practice of religion." 

This perplexity may be at once relieved by a recurrence 



192 A TRUE REVIVAL. 

to our true definition ; a reviving or increase of obedience 
to God. Now a church in that state will come to a higher 
state of activity and faithfulness in all departments of 
Christian obedience, in prayer, in efforts to save souls, in 
benevolent plans and labors for the poor, the heathen, the 
oppressed. But there will be times when one of these 
classes of duties may temporarily occupy a larger share of 
thought and effort than the others. Thus a truly revived 
church may for a time give some days or works to special 
efforts for the conversion of sinners, still retaining to the 
full their interest in other forms of Christian duty. Again, 
the cause of missions may demand attention, or work for 
the poor or the oppressed. 

The revival has not ceased, it has only developed itself 
in new efforts. Or it may occur that no special work is in 
progress in any department of Christian benevolence, but 
each receives whatever of time or thought enlightened 
Christian zeal may demand ; the revived Christian, im- 
proving the daily opportunities which Providence offers 
for leading men to Christ or for aiding every good work. 
So doing, the revival has not ceased, it is still in glorious 
progress. 

Thus will those perplexities we have adverted to, be re- 
moved. Thus may we understand a true revival of religion. 



HEZEKIAIT, TDE MAN OF PRAYER. 193 



. XIII, 

HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PEAYEE, 



L 3 



" Thex be (Hezekiab) turned his face to the wall, and prayed unto the 
Lord."— 2 Kings 20 : 2.* 

The fundamental idea, on which Hezekiah's statesman- 
ship was based, evidently was that national prosperity was 
to be secured by national righteousness. Accordingly he 
prosecuted the work of reformation with energy. The anti- 
cipated results followed. Prosperity again visited Judah ; 
the kingdom recovered from its exhaustion, and the people 
which under the profligate administration of Ahaz, had 
dwindled into a feeble colony, annexed to Assyria, once 
more regained independence. 

But Sennacherib, king of Assyria, was disposed to ad- 
vance the tyrant's claim — the claim of robbers, all the 
world over ; the right to perpetuate a wrong, because the 
wrong had been once perpetrated. His father, Tiglath 
Pileser, had conquered Ahaz, and enslaved Judah ; he 
therefore, the son of the conqueror, thought himself entitled 
to hold the sons in bondage, and pretended great indigna- 
tion that Hezekiah and his people should claim their lost 
rights. But they very naturally supposed themselves fully 
entitled to their liberties, though their fathers had been 

* The Scripture will supply the brief verbal recapitulation of the history of 
Hezekiah. which prefaced this sermon. 



194 HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 



enslaved. It is a logic, which, though very convenient for 
the oppressor, never was, nor will be, very convincing to 
the oppressed, that the son is rightfully held to be a slave, 
because some body had wrongfully enslaved his mother, or 
his ancestor. 

But as they insisted on being free, and Sennacherib was 
determined to keep them in bondage, it came at last to the 
same old, sad result, repeated so often in the world's his- 
tory : oppressors and oppressed must fight. Tyrants do not 
voluntarily take off their feet from the crushed victim ; 
fetters do not rust off, nor drop off; in most cases they can 
only be broken off in the awful conflict of battle. So Sen- 
nacherib raised a vast army, and prepared to chastise his 
rebellious bondsmen. Hezekiah fortified Jerusalem, orga- 
nized his forces, and encouraged his people who looked 
with dismay on the swarming hosts of Assyria, with the 
assurance : "The Lord our God will help us, and fight our 
battles for us." 

For a time, however, there was no indication of divine 
aid; but there was the usual fate of weakness attempting 
to wrestle with strength. The vast hostile army swept over 
the land like a deluge ; city after city fell ; Lachish was 
besieged, and Jerusalem was next to be attacked. The 
conqueror was able to send home the customary bulletins, 
announcing glorious victories, and calling for rejoicings in 
the streets of ISaneveh. ITezekiah's faith wavered ; and no 
wonder. The circumstances might well have appalled even 
a very bold and good man. An army whose march was 
like the tread of the pestilence, or the sweep of the tornado ; 
which had driven his forces before him as the wolf scatters 
the sheep, was about to spring on him ; the smoke of the 
towns burnt and pillaged by the swarming enemy, might 
be seen from his palace-windows, and fugitives from the 



HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PEAYER. 195 

royal robber and bis blood-hound soldiers, were crowding 
into Jerusalem. Resistance seemed hopeless ; opposition 
would only exasperate Sennacherib more, and provoke him 
to inflict more terrible vengeance and a worse slavery on 
the nation. 

Then Hezekiah, forgetting in the confusion of his anxiety 
the promises of God, fell into the miserable policy which 
he ought to have spurned ; the policy of mere temporary 
expediencies ; of patching up, or getting rid of a difficulty 
for the moment. He tried to buy off Sennacherib. The 
conqueror promised to draw off his forces at the price of 
three hundred talents of silver and thirty talents of gold. 
Hezekiah paid it, though obliged to tear off the gold plat- 
ing from the doors and pillars of the temple. The in- 
vader marched his army down toward Egypt, to prosecute 
his victories in that quarter. There was a brief respite ; 
but only a brief one ; for the royal robber, with the charac- 
teristic meanness of oppressors all the world over, having 
wronged and frightened Hezekiah out of such plunder, 
thought it quite as easy to take the whole, and was soon on 
his way back, with a greedier appetite for money and 
conquest. 

During this respite, an event of great moment transpired. 
Hezekiah was taken dangerously ill ; his physicians gave 
him over, and the prophet Isaiah was supernaturally com- 
missioned to assure him that he must die. In such a case 
there did not seem to be much encouragement to pray. 
But now the very desperateness of the case, drove him to 
God. Prostrate and earnest, he pleaded for aid. His peti- 
tion was heard ; the prophet soon returned with the assur- 
ance that he should live fifteen years longer ; and in a few 
days he was perfectly restored. 

This fact raises up at once one of the most interesting 



196 HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 

problems which the thoughtful mind ever studies. Was 
Hezekiah's prayer really answered ? Will our prayers be 
answered ? Does prayer without question or evasion sus- 
tain the relation of cause to effect? and as truly obtain 
favors from God as one's request to a human friend really 
gains the favor asked ? 

As you well know, some declare this to be absurd. God's 
purposes, they maintain, are fixed and immutable. Future 
events are already moulded in a vast iron fatalism, so that 
the gradual unfolding of events is but printing off the ste- 
reotype purposes of God's own mind, which prayer can no 
more change than the paper can affect the impression 
which the resistless steam-power forces down on it. Some 
minds, not ready to allow the utter uselessness of prayer, 
are more or less staggered or bewildered when they think 
about it, and almost feel that they must practise a sort of 
deception or imposition on themselves, when hoping really 
to effect any thing by prayer. They do not see how our 
prayers can induce God to alter his plans. Now, this dis- 
belief, or this befogged doubt, relative to the straightfor- 
ward efficacy of prayer, forms an insuperable obstacle to 
earnest prayer. One can not lay out his soul in a work 
whose efficacy he denies or doubts. 

Regarding all these doubts as resting on certain false 
assumptions, I propose to offer some remarks thereon, and 
state certain mistaken views. 

1. That the immutability of God is incompatible with 
change; whereas, within certain limits, it is the very 
ground or necessary reason of change. For let us suppose 
a king, possessing absolute power, and that, with a charac- 
ter unchangeably good, he had formed the immutable pur- 
pose always to do right, and that from this purpose he 
could no more be driven than a rock or mountain could bend 



HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 197 

like the willow. But that purpose, absolutely immutable? 
will necessitate a change. The man, whom to-day, obedient 
to law, he treats with favor, he will to-morrow send to pri- 
son for crimes committed. One man, for a time develop- 
ing good traits of character, he loves ; that same man, sub- 
sequently becoming base, he dislikes. Because he is un- 
changeably good, therefore his mind changes from love to 
disapprobation, or from disapprobation to love, as the cha- 
racter of the man he looks at, changes from good to bad, or 
from bad to good. 

Again, let us suppose that this king had laid down for 
himself this unchangeable rule ; that within certain limits 
his conduct should be according to petitions ; that there 
were certain favors which he would bestow on his subjects 
alike, good or bad, free or in prison, whether asked for or 
not ; but there was a certain class of benefits which should 
be made to depend on petition ; should be given to those 
who asked for them, and should not be given to those who 
did not ask for them in the right wav. This unchangeable 
rule of an unchangeable being, would be the ground of 
constant changes. If one asked for the particular class of 
favors, he would obtain them ; if he did not ask, he would 
not receive them. 

This unchangeable being, in adherence to an unchange- 
able rule, would bestow favors on one, which he could not 
bestow on another; and would bestow favors on a man, 
which he would not have bestowed, if the man had not 
asked. 

These statements are probably self-evident, yet such we 
apprehend is the unchangeableness of God's relation to 
prayer. God is unchangeably good, therefore he hates sin 
and is displeased with the sinner ; and therefore changes to 
approbation and love toward that sinner, when he repents 



198 HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PRAYER 

and becomes good. God has determined to make certain 
favors, sunlight for instance, common to all ; therefore the 
sun rises alike on the evil and on the good, whether they 
ask for it or not. He has also determined to make another 
class of favors dependent on petition ; if men ask aright, 
they obtain ; if not, they receive nothing. When one 
prays, therefore, he is only asking an unchangeable God to 
bestow favors in accordance with his unchangeable rule of 
conduct. Instead of feeling hindered by the unchangeable- 
ness of Grod, that is the very reason why you can come 
freely and hopefully. The immutability of God is unchange- 
able truth and benevolence. 

We regard as a mistake, 

2. That God can not ansioer prayer without interfering 
with the laws of nature, and thus virtually working a mira- 
cle. It is taken for granted by those who fall into this mis- 
take, and are perplexed by direct answers to prayer, that 
the agency of God is only to be found at the extreme 
farther end, so to speak, of events ; that you begin with an 
event which occurred to-day and it is to be traced to other 
events which took place the day before, and that to events 
still more remote in the past ; that thus we are to go back 
from event to event, a thousand or six thousand years ; and 
then at last so back to God. who formed all things and set 
them in motion ; that at that further end or commencement 
of all things, God gave force to the original powers and 
causes, as the artillery-man fires his cannon, and no more 
interferes with the subsequent course of cause and effect, 
than the same soldier controls the cannon-ball and its 
results, after he has once given it aim and impulse from the 
cannon's mouth ; that God launched off the world some 
centuries ago, and ever since it has gone on spinning and 
grinding out events, by laws which derived their force from 



HEZEKIA1I, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 199 



God originally, but which virtually exclude his own agency 
now. 

Now it is true that God did give all things their original 
powers, and that events are thus connected, the near and 
remote, by the laws of cause and effect ; but it is altogether 
an assumption that God does not exercise his agency all 
along the line of events. Nor would this imply any mir- 
acle or any dislocation or interruption of the laws of cause 
and effect. For suppose that I had been the original crea- 
tor of electricity, and had given it its laws and powers ; 
and had also invented the telegraph, with its fixed laws of 
action, and had erected one of these machines which went 
on working out results according to those fixed laws. It is 
plain that I could interpose all along the line, when and 
where I chose. If any village on the line should aslc, I 
could easily bend on an additional wire, bring the electric 
fluid into a particular house, there let it work out its results 
and reveal its messages, and then proceed. But all the 
while the electricity and the telegraph are following out 
fixed laws at each end and all along the line, just as though 
I had not interfered. 

Thus God has created causes and given them general 
laws, but he can easily interpose or bring about given 
results, without touching or interrupting in the least the 
laws of nature. Thus, for instance, suppose one is ill ; such 
are the laws and nature of the human system and of the 
disease, that the man must die if these causes go on and 
operate unhindered. Yet there is a remedy, which if 
applied, will by the same fixed laws of nature, so act on 
the system as to cure the disease. But the attending physi- 
cian-has not thought of it, and the patient is dying. The 
physician goes home to study the case, and the friends 
betake themselves to prayer. As the physician is carefully 



200 HEZEKIAH, THE IIAJT OF PRAYER. 

thinking over the nature of the disease, and the nature of 
the remedies he knows, God, ever present, by influencing 
his mind and thoughts leads him to think of such a combi- 
nation of those remedies as will probably check the disease. 
He hastens back to the sick man, applies the remedy and 
effects a cure. 

Now in that case there is the agency of God coming in 
and securing the result in answer to prayer ; the cure is to 
be ascribed to God, and yet the laws of nature have neither 
been violated nor interrupted, but the cure has taken place 
in exact conformity to the laws of nature. We see then 
that direct answers to prayer imply no miracle, no inter- 
ruption of the laws of nature ; and that God can interpose 
his agency at any point along the line of cause and effect 
without interfering with his general laws. 

Moreover, we are to remember that prayer is one of the 
causes which are to produce results, and thus comes within 
the laws of nature, so to speak. For all causes derive all 
their power from an original act and constitution of God, 
not from any inherent efficiency in themselves. They are 
as they are from him. They might all have been differ- 
ent, and then would have been equally natural. God could 
have originally established his law of nature, that oil should 
extinguish fire, that water should burn like pitch ; that 
iron should burn like wood, and wood melt and stiffen like 
iron ; that out of the snow-drift should grow up orange 
trees ; that in the desert should flourish wheat and corn ; 
that the apple should be poisonous and arsenic nutritious. 

Any thing can be a cause if he so order it. Thus he 
might have given a word or a volition power, so that the 
mason should stand by his heap of stones and as he spoke, 
one and another of them should take its place on the build- 
ing ; that the carpenter should but utter the word and each 



HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 201 

timber, beam, and brace would take the place appointed 
for it in the work. If thus constituted, and if always 
taking place, they would be natural, taking place accord- 
ing to the laws of cause and effect. 

Now it was certainly possible for God, in originally set- 
tling the constitution and laws of all things, to make prayer 
a cause, a cause to be followed by certain results, not by 
all results, just as easily as to make any other thing, act, or 
event, a cause. Fire is a cause. It is limited in its power ; 
it can not effect all things ; but within a certain range, or 
on certain conditions, it will produce certain results. So 
prayer might be made, within certain limits, on certain 
conditions, and in relation to certain objects, a cause. That 
being established, then the fact that prayer produces its 
appropriate, appointed results, is just as natural as that fire 
should produce its appointed results. This would not imply 
that prayer should produce all kinds of results ; it may be 
subject to limitations, like any other cause. All this is 
possible. 

And according to my view this is the actual fact. God 
in originally laying out the great scheme of things, did lay 
down this unchangeable law of cause and effect ; that 
prayer should come in as one among the vast series of 
causes that he created or allowed to come into his creation. 
The man, therefore, who prays for one kind of result, is 
acting as rationally and naturally as one who works or acts 
for another kind of result. 

Certainly, one may say, this is possible ; but is it actually 
so? If we will allow the Bible to decide any question, 
there can be no doubt. For if any point can be made plain, 
it is there most clearly asserted that certain results are to 
follow prayer. Let a text or two out of hundreds suffice. 
"If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, and it shall 



202 IIEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PJRAYEB. 



be given him." " If ye being evil know how to give good 
gifts to your children, how much more shall your Father 
which is in heaven give the Holy Spirit to them that ask 
him." " Come boldly to a throne of grace, that w T e may 
obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need." 

These and a multitude of other passages, speak of the 
efficacy of prayer to bring about certain ends, in the same 
plain language in which we might speak of the efficacy of 
fire to produce the result of heat and conflagration, or the 
efficacy of climate and culture to produce a good harvest. 

If then one ask : ' How much can prayer do ? what is 
the range of results which prayer may be expected to 
secure?' We do not know exactly. Herein there is a 
beautiful analogy between it and other causes. We do not 
know the astonishing mines of power which lie hidden 
even in common things. Once, who knew the wonderful 
efficacy latent in the thin vapor ascending from boiling 
water ? But there it was, like the fabled genii, waiting 
for some one to find it and use it. A few years ago, who 
knew the almost miraculous agencies lying so still and idle 
in acid, zinc, and copper ? But now they are known and 
used, yet neither of them, nor of the commonest substances 
around us, do we yet know all that they can do. So with 
prayer ; we know something of it. But we have never 
found out the limit of its power ; we have not used, applied, 
studied, experimented, if you will allow the figure, enough 
with it to know even imperfectly what it can do. We are 
in relation to it like a child who stands looking at a vast 
steam-engine. He sees it beautiful and wonderful, but has 
not the remotest conception of all its applications. 

So of prayer. We know it can do great things. Moses 
prayed, and God, just about to crush the guilty Jews at 
Sinai, staid his hand. One prayer saved a whole nation. 



HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 203 



Jews and Amalekites were in hot fight ; the onset of the 
Amalekites was driving Israel like snow before the hurri- 
cane. Moses held up his hands in prayer. The exulting 
conqueror was driven back. Prayer thus turned the tide 
of battle. 

Hezekiah prayed, and death, the mightiest conqueror of 
all, who had already seized his victim, was overcome, and 
forced to let go his hold. Hezekiah prayed again, and 
death, obedient, destroyed a hundred and fourscore and 
five thousand of the Assyrians, in a single night. Thus 
even death, which will obey God only, has been controlled 
by prayer. Some Christians prayed, and three thousand 
persons were converted in a day ; they prayed again, and 
dungeon-doors flew open, and iron bolts snapped like a 
spider's web, while angels were the escort and body-guard 
of the emancipated Apostle. Prayer overthrew Haman, 
brought down rain from heaven, and arrested the sun in its 
course. All that it has done. How much more it can do, 
we know not. Perhaps in these last days, faith and piety 
are to make new and grander discoveries of the power of 
prayer. Ere that great work, the conversion of the world, 
shall be accomplished, we may see vaster results from 
prayer than former ages dreamed of. 

It may be said, that these illustrations of the power of 
prayer were miraculous, and we can no longer expect mi- 
racles ; and so the Scripture facts, instead of working as 
encouragements, are used to chill our hopes. But is not 
the fact, that God wrought miracles in answer to prayer, 
the highest possible incitement to prayer ? For such facts 
are like a proclamation from God : " I am willing to do 
any thing ; command ye me. You can not ask any thing 
so great, but I am willing to do it." 

For miracles are not needed to bring about stupendous 



20± HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 

results. God has resources enough. Once three millions 
of slaves cried to God, and he led them out miraculously 
from bondage. Let our three millions of slaves cry to God, 
and without miracle their bonds could soon fall. The fact 
that God wrought miracles to emancipate Egyptian slaves, 
was not designed to make other slaves despair of help ; but 
to encourage them* to ask and expect help as great. If a 
true Gospel were preached at the South,- and to the slaves, 
they would soon be crying to God for aid in such form> 
that the oppressors' knees would smite together like Bel- 
shazzar's. Daniel by miracle was delivered from the dan- 
ger brought on by steadfast adherence to duty. That was 
not designed to make others feel, that, as they can not ex- 
pect a miracle, therefore they can not expect help in peril ; 
but rather to assure them, all who call on Him, that effi- 
cient succor will come in some form. 

Let us learn from this subject to cultivate the habit of 
jprayer. In secret pray* Daily pray. Let an influence go 
forth from your closet, which shall make a mark on the 
world, as the great Amazon, pouring out its sea of waters, 
has its rise in some far-off spring, bubbling up among the 
hills. 

Pray for great things ; that idolatry may crumble, des- 
potisms fall, wrong and slavery cease, war be unknown, 
and nations turn to God. In times of discouragement, pray. 
Hezekiah's case was a desperate one, but he only went to 
God the more earnestly. Your prospects can not be more 
gloomy than his. 

Those were gloomy times for the Church, when our Sav- 
iour was on the cross. Villainy was completely triumphant, 
and innocence trampled on and crucified. Malice had 
crushed the Head of the Church. Jewish craft and Roman 
power had effected apparently the complete extinction of 



HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 205 



the Church, save only a few dispersed and frightened frag- 
ments. If Christ, the God-man, was worsted in the wrestle 
with organized sin, who or what could stand before it? 
Most of all, God appeared to have deserted his own cause. 

But the disciples rallied and prayed. There, in that 
little upper room, was planted the "battery, so to speak, 
which w r as to break down the walls of heathenism ; which was 
to cover Roman and Pharisee with defeat and shame. There 
religion, drawing near to God, came forth in his strength, 
conquering and to conquer. The first achievement was the 
conversion of three thousand in one day, and she went on 
travelling in the greatness of her strength. Prayer lifted 
her up from the depths of ruin, and associated her with 
omnipotence. 

Who has not occasionally felt his heart sink in utter 
despondency, as the gathering clouds of gloom deepen and 
darken around him and his Church ? Wrong is triumphant ; 
sin is spreading itself like a green bay tree ; men scornfully 
cast off the fear of God. The Spirit of God departs, and 
leaves men to delusion and hard-heartedness. One has not 
the heart to pray, or feels that it is of no use to pray. Then 
is the very time to pray ; then can God glorify himself 
most by hearing prayer. The sun is not annihilated, it is 
only obscurecf by clouds, and prayer shall soon drive them 
away. 

Pray in the sanctuary. It can not have escaped the no- 
tice of any, how carelessly the devotional parts of our ser- 
vices are by many regarded. Some even, who will listen 
to the sermon with decent respect, seem to consider the 
prayer as a sort of interlude, a change to diversify the 
scene, as when in a theater the curtain drops for a few mo- 
ments, to relieve a wearied audience. Some, instead of 

12 



206 HEZEKIAlI, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 

bowing down before God in prayer, stare at the minister a3 
if he were acting a part before them. 

But if there be any truth in the previous remarks, then 
there is no part of the service into which we should enter 
with such fixed, concentrated attention, as the prayers. 
For if hundreds of us should unite in bearing upward on 
strong desire, the earnest request, " To-day meet us, to-day 
grant us strength and help, here pour out thy Spirit ;" 
think you the glory of the Lord would not fill his temple % 
If the invitation, " Let us pray," should find us calling in 
every thought, to approach with reverence the throne, try- 
ing to come with something of the spirit of those lofty ones, 
who cast their crowns at his feet, then would power en- 
force the truth. Sabbath services then would cease to be a 
reiteration of lifeless formalities ; but joy, hope, growth, 
and conversion would be the glad weekly harvest of our 
solemnities. Pray then in the sanctuary. Let each right 
petition from the pulpit, go up enforced by the earnest 
aspiration of each soul. 

Pray in the social circle. I should like, if I had time, 
to show how instinctively the warm, religious heart bends 
itself toward the prayer-meeting, as a plant toward the 
light. Popery has no prayer-meetings j heathenism has no 
prayer-meetings; the old dead churches of Europe, tied up 
to the state, and so dragged onward, have pompous wor- 
ship and liturgies and rituals, but no prayer-meetings. But 
let life once fill the soul, and it must have prayer-meetings. 
They have always been characteristic of the old Puritan 
element in religion. There, heart meeting heart, faith and 
love glow intenser. God also recognizes in this as in other 
matters, the great advantage of union, when he says: "If 
two of you shall agree, as touching any thing that they shall 
ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in 



HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 207 

heaven." It is on them specially that the Church meet, to 
put forth the mighty power wrapped up in prayer ; not 
mainly to sing, to hear, to learn — but to pray. 

" Let me go," said God to Jacob ; " Let me alone," he 
said to Moses ; as if there were trial of strength between 
God and prayer, and prayer if persisted in, would prevail 
in this wonderful wrestling. How appropriate that the 
Church should have its appointed seasons and gatherings 
for so vast a work. It is painful, therefore, to witness the 
reluctant and thin attendance, usually found at prayer- 
meetings. Let one put forth an advertisement for some ex- 
hibition or amusement, and crowds will flock there, and 
pay for the privilege. Raise the standard of prayer, few 
come, and even of those some bring frozen hearts and dead 
formalities. 

Preaching is but one part of the instrumentality which. 
God uses for the advancement of his cause. That may be 
good ; there may be a Bible in every house, a Sabbath- 
school for every child, and a church well filled with hear- 
ers ; and yet sin grow instead of holiness, unless the Spirit 
breathe upon the slain. You can find, therefore, mute ap- 
peals for prayer all around you. In the haunts of intem- 
perance, that drunken and palsied tongue seems to beg you 
to pray for him; the conscience-hardened seller, a man 
turned into a fiend by the very excess of his guilt, asks you 
to pray for him ; those about you, who esteem the prayers 
of a Protestant an abomination, do the more urgently need 
prayer ; the heedless youth, treading lightsomely the down- 
ward road, affectingly appeals to you for prayer, as one 
slumbering and silent in a boat, borne toward the foaming 
cataract, would cry aloud in reason's ear, for help. The 
poor fugitive, with all the power of a colossal government, 



208 HEZEKIAH, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 

prepared to grasp and crush him in horror and despair, 
asks you to pray for him. 

Oh ! with what ardor then should men crowd together to 
pray ! To withhold prayer is practically to say : " No ; 
perish ; go on ; sin more deeply, and perish more miser- 
ably, I will not pray for yon." 

Ponder well the responsibility which God places on you, 
by these facts and promises relative to prayer. For sup- 
pose that a fearful hurricane, howling around our dwell- 
ings, bore on its wings some fearful death-plague, and as it 
penetrated each house, smote down its victims, like the an- 
gel which went through Egypt on that eventful night. On 
the morrow you heard in each house the wail of mourners, 
and the groans of more victims to this horrible plague. 
Business ceases ; the busy hands, which filled the work- 
shops, are dead or dying ; the streets are deserted, except 
by funeral processions ; crowds of youth, smitten with ter- 
ror, are expecting in horror the blow of the pestilence. 
" Death, with his iron teeth, is grinding us to powder, and 
the grave is gorged with victims." 

One man alone has a remedy. He can vanquish and 
drive off this king of terrors. But this man throws around 
his own family the infallible protector, and then wraps him- 
self up in his security to enjoy himself. Those w T hom he 
loves safe about him, he heeds not the cry of his perishing 
townsmen, his heart is . not melted at the woes of other 
families. He harms no one, but enjoys himself, and drives 
on his own business, while ruin is driving his ploughshare 
through others, and making the town a desert. "Would not 
every smitten family regard him as a murderer ? and the 
earth almost cast him off as unfit to live ? 

But among us is an evil worse than that. Sin is a dis- 



HEZEK1AH, THE MAN OF PRAYER. 209 



ease followed by eternal death. It is all about us, in 
every house, and rapidly destroying multitudes. Prayer 
can stop the evil. 

Can you pray ? Do you pray ? For neglecting prayer, 
or failing to put forth this remedy to the utmost, you prac- 
tically say to the destroyer : \ Go on ; find new victims, 
destroy, and spare not.' With this remedy in your hands, 
whoso " seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his 
bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of 
God in him ?" 



210 HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 



XIV. 

HEZEKIAH— EFFICACY OF PRAYER 

" Thus saith the Lord, the God of David thy father, I have heard thy 
prayer, I have seen thy tears." — 2 Kings 20 : 5. 

For a time Hezekiali enjoyed a respite from misfortune 
and war. His health had been miraculously restored, and 
his formidable enemy, Sennacherib, had departed. But 
his timid, compromising policy toward the king of Assyria 
soon was followed by its appropriate results ; he was sub- 
jected to additional insults and encroachments. When 
Hezekiali bought off Sennacherib, he did in fact offer a 
most tempting premium on further extortion. Accordingly 
after a temporary absence, the greedy conqueror came 
back wholly to rob and enslave the people whom he had 
before frightened and weakened. Having finished his 
marauding expedition into Egypt, whither he had tem- 
porarily gone, he once more overran Judea, ravaged the 
territory and laid waste cities. While occupied with his 
army at Lachish, he heard that Hezekiah intended to resist, 
but encouraged by his former pusillanimity, he sent a most 
haughty and blasphemous message, requiring instant sub- 
mission and defying him and his God. The message is 
found in 2 Chron. 32 : 9-15. It is one of the earliest offi- 
cial documents in existence, in which the doctrine of " no 
higher law " is laid down, and has never been surpassed in 
vigor and clearness by any in later times. 



HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 211 

But as his paper artillery did not this time effect the 
purpose, the arrogant despot put his army in motion and 
soon was near Jerusalem. An appalling sight it was, 
from the walls of that city, to see every hill-top crested 
and glittering with those invincible hosts, never conquered, 
whose march had been one continuous victory, through 
Hamath and Arpad, Sepharvaim and Samaria. Scornfully 
the victor looked down on the Jews shut up there, as the 
wolf would reconnoitre the ground, ere making his final 
spring into the fold. An easy victory might be anticipated 
over these rebellious slaves, and a speedy return with spoil 
and triumph to Nineveh. 

Hezekiah now bethought himself of that strong Friend, 
whom before he had so strangely forgotten, He laid the 
case before God in prayer. The substance of the prayer is 
narrated in 2 Kings 19 : 14-19 : " O Lord, God of Israel, 
which dwellest between the cherubim, thou art the God, 
even thou alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth; thou 
hast made heaven and earth. Lord, bow down thine 
ear and hear, open, Lord, thine eyes and see ; and hear 
the words of Sennacherib which hath sent him to reproach 
the living God. Of a truth, Lord, the kings of Assyria 
have destroyed the nations and their laws. And have cast 
their gods into the fire ; for they were no gods, but the 
work of men's hands, wood and stone, therefore they 
have destroyed them. Now, therefore, O Lord our God, I 
beseech thee save us out of his hand, that all the kingdoms 
of the earth may know that thou art the Lord God, even 
thou only." 

That prayer was mightier than munitions of war. It 
drew around him the shield of Omnipotence, so that when 
the victorious army supposed they were about to grasp a 
handful of trembling fugitives, they were met by the strong 



212 HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY OF PliAYEE. 

arm of the Lord Almighty. One hundred and eighty-five 
thousand of them fell by his power ; the baffled tyrant fled 
alone, and was soon murdered by his own children. 

We have then in this portion of the history, another 
illustration of the efficacy of prayer. I will therefore sug- 
gest some additional remarks on the same topic, with illus- 
trations drawn not so much from the Bible, as from those 
facts which are the divine explanation of the Bible. 

1. No one vjho has faithfully maintained the habit of secret 
prayer, has ever apostatised. Apostasy in some form is 
common, but rarely does it come in the form of a change 
from a Christian profession to open profligacy. More fre- 
quently we see the apostate standing in the Church like a 
pillar of salt, dead, or if there be life, it is life in business, 
life in amusement, life in the social circle. This is the 
class of dead formalists in public worship, or those whose 
careless irreverence in the house of God, leads others to 
say, " /would not do what those professors of religion do," 
those who, after their conversion, have gone back just 
where they were before. 

Yet no one ever so went back, who faithfully maintained 
the habit of prayer. If you ask me how I know this, of 
course I can not go over thousands of cases one by one, his- 
torically describing each. But these are conclusions 
formed after long observation, and opportunities of know- 
ing great numbers of youth and others, who have been 
professed Christians. So strong is this conviction, that I 
have no fears for the Christian steadfastness of those who 
persevere in prayer, but have the same confidence that 
they will hold out, that I have in the certainty that God 
will exist to-morrow, or that the sun will rise and set. 

Of course this remark applies to trite prayer. A mere 
formal, heartless prayer, a prayer hurried over to hush 



HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 2i3 

conscience, Trill be of no avail. But let the soul in 
earnestness, penitence, with a sense of need, approach God 
daily, and his help is sure as the ark which carried Noah 
over a ruined world. 

2. No one ever apostatized till he abandoned or greatly 
neglected prayer. Neither for this statement can I give 
you the inductive proof which results from a personal 
knowledge and statement of hundreds and thousands of in- 
stances. Only this, that I never yet put the inquiry to one 
who had become an apostate or backslider, " Did you not 
neglect partially or totally secret prayer before you began 
to go back ?" but the answer has always been : " Fes, I did." 
That cast them loose from God, and left them to float 
wildly, without compass or rudder, toward the dark waters 
of destruction. 

So firm are my convictions on this subject that I do not 
hesitate to say to my young friends who are setting out, as 
they suppose, in the Christian life : "If you will daily draw 
near to God in prayer, I know you will persevere ; strug- 
gles, difficulties, doubts, temptations, dark hours, you may 
have, but you will not apostatize. I know God will keep 
you from that. But I am equally sure, that if yon abandon 
or much neglect prayer, you will go back." 

3. The most useful men have oeen preeminently men of 
prayer. Next to our great example Christ Jesus, stands the 

apostle Paul. Energetic, bold, useful, with an influence 
wider and deeper than any man who ever lived ; he was 
the spirit of prayer embodied. It was hardly a figure of 
speech to say that prayer was his breath. Luther came 
nearer to Paul than any other man, and he was peculiarly 
characterized by habitual and fervent pray erfnln ess. I 
need only name such men as Edwards, Brainerd, Payson, 
Page, Baxter, Bunyan ; all these and hosts of others were 
12* 



214 HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

men of prayer. As you read their memoirs, you find 
them widely different from each other in talents, in edu- 
cation, in temperament. There was the cool, metaphysical 
Edwards ; the fiery, imaginative Pay son, the missionary 
Brainerd, and the mechanic Page ; Baxter the scholar, and 
Bunyan the tinker ; but they were all alike men of prayer, 
and men eminently useful. Their glowing zeal, their 
burning words, their courage and strength, were found in 
daily intercourse with God. As they came from the pre- 
sence of God, they came not alone. He was with them 
to sustain and help, and in his strength they went forth to 
conquer. 

4. Good effected has been preceded by prayer. We will 
select revivals of religion as a case in point. For while it 
is common to call every excitement on religious subjects a 
revival of religion, and while, no doubt, there are counter- 
feits and frenzies which are baptized by this holy name, 
yet that there are and have been true revivals of religion 
is unquestionable. Men have differed as to the mode of 
operations, the truths inculcated ; but there is entire una- 
nimity in declaring that prayer, an increased spirit of 
prayer, was the invariable antecedent and cause of these 
revivals. The best men, of however variously constituted 
minds, all agree on this matter, that a true spirit of prayer 
is followed by a revival of religion, and that there is no 
revival except as the result of true prayer. 

These remarks on the nature and efficacy of prayer, 
taken in connection with the case of Hezekiah and Senna- 
cherib, lead to the remark, 

^ 1. We see the duty of praying for on£s country. Nations 
have been saved by prayer. Israel at Sinai was saved by 
prayer — in the battle with the Amalekites was saved by 
prayer — brought out of Babylonish captivity by prayer — 



HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY" OF PftAYEIl. 215 

saved from Hainan's wrath by prayer — delivered from Sen- 
nacherib's army by prayer. Now I do not suppose that prayer 
and divine agency had any thing more to do with Israel, and 
Israel's history and deliverances, than with English history, 
or with American history and deliverances. On the contrary, 
we may regard Jewish history as the key by which to unlock 
or interpret all other; as designed to teach just to what 
extent God does interpose in national affairs, with the occa- 
sions and grounds of such interposition. Just as in our 
arithmetics, the first problem in each rule is carefully 
worked out, and each step explained, so that the pupils may 
know how to work out the others ; so God wrote out the 
history of one nation, unveiling, so to speak, the secret ma- 
chinery whereby it was controlled, so that we might know 
how to ascertain the causes of all other national changes. 

It is evident that the hand of God was no less active in 
bringing the Pilgrims to Plymouth, than in taking the 
Jews from Egypt to Canaan, and that prayer has had 
as much influence in placing New-England in her pre- 
sent position, as in placing safeguards about Jerusalem 
when threatened by the king of Assyria. We can not 
always trace out with as much accuracy the times and modes 
of the divine agenc}^, and the particular prayers which 
were efficacious, in our modern national history, as in that 
old Jewish history from which God lifted the veil, so that 
we might look within and see all its springs and wheels ; 
but that God and prayer have had as much to do in them, 
is none the less true. One who judges otherwise is as 
superficial and mistaken, as the child who should think the 
hands upon the dial -plate of a watch the real motive power, 
and the causes of the regular division of time. 

Prayer for one's country, like prayer for individuals, 
should take its form from the exigencies of the case. Thus 



216 HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

in our republican government, the elections are matters of 
vital consequence to the well-being of a country. Citizens 
quietly meet in little bands of a few hundreds over the 
country, and by the simple deposit of a vote select rulers 
and decide the legislation of the State or nation, and yet 
what mighty interests depend thereon ! But alas ! we know 
to what an extent passions, base motives, mistaken views, 
and excited prejudices mar or corrupt this sacred act of 
freemen, so that deplorable consequences follow. Here 
then should come in fervent prayer, that God would con- 
trol and direct the opinions and acts of the voters every 
where. 

It is true there is so much of heat, rancor, partisanship, 
and unhallowed motive connected with our political dis- 
cusions and elections, that the mention of prayer in connec- 
tion with them would, to some, seem like a profanation. 
But this is one main reason why we should offer prayer, 
that all should act calmly, conscientiously, and wisely. 
Morever, it is in a degree true that good and praying men 
might to some extent differ in opinion as to elections ; some 
honestly believing that one result would be evil, which 
another as honestly believes would be good. But even 
they might be united and fervent in this prayer, that God, 
who knows better than we, would incline the minds of 
voters to do that which He sees to be best. Just as the 
noise and din of ante-election strife grows more and more 
discordant, the Christian, like Moses on the mount, when 
the battle was raging below, should be lifting up his hands 
in prayer to God, who can sway the minds of the combat- 
ants. The hundreds of thousands of Christian women in 
America might thus be like Moses, saviours to their country. 

Again, men after election to office need constant prayer. 
There is no man subjected to more fearful temptations, than 



HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY OF PEAYEE. 2L7 

are men in high office. Few men can bear the possession 
of power. From one passage in the Bible, it would seem 
that it was ambition by which angels fell : what marvel 
then that it leads men to sin ? Political life is proverbially 
beset with tierce temptations of every kind, especially at 
our seat of government. Do not men placed in such cir- 
cumstances then need prayer? and particularly when their 
action involves the welfare of the nation and the individual 
prosperity of millions ? Pray then that their measures 
may be just, their course of policy right. 

Benjamin Franklin, one of the coolest and most philo- 
sophic men that ever lived, not a church member, and as 
far removed from excitement and superstition as a mind 
can be, once rose in a political assembly and said : " Mr. 
President, in the beginning of the war, when we were sen- 
sible of our danger, we had daily prayer for divine pro- 
tection. Our prayers were heard. All of us must have 
observed frequent instances of a superintending providence 
in our favor. Have we forgotten our powerful Friend ? 
Do we imagine that we no longer need his assistance ? I 
have lived a long time, and the longer I live the more con- 
vincing proof I see that God governs the affairs of men. 
Without his aid we shall succeed no better in this political 
building than the builders of Babel. I therefore beg leave 
to move that henceforth, prayer be held in this assembly 
every morning." Such truly great men as Franklin and 
Washington knew the value of prayer ; pigmy and dema- 
gogue politicians scoff at it. As we remember then the 
fearful temptations of men in office, the perils and sins into 
which their acts may plunge a whole nation ; how one bad 
law may be a curse to millions ; how great men can render 
vice fashionable, and bad legislation, like a volcano, may 
upheave and ruin the whole land, let us pray. For our 



218 HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

country's sake, for our children's sake, let us make the 
elections and the legislation of the country the subject of 
daily and earnest prayer. 

Think not that this is needless. For does New-England 
stand higher in the favor of God than his own chosen Israel 
once did? Yet they felt God's awful wrath. Is the fertile 
West more fertile than Palestine, once flowing with milk 
and honey ? Yet that fruitful land is now almost a desert. 
Is New- York or New-Orleans more populous, strong, or 
enduring than Babylon or Tyre? Yet they have been 
dashed in pieces like a potter's vessel, and have vanished 
like the foam on the ocean. Sin ruined them. On their 
ruins is written : i£ Thus perisheth the people which forsook 
the Lord." 

National sins are as offensive to God now. Let us pray 
then for our country, for her citizens and her legislators ; for 
her reformation and happiness. It may be that when the 
same hand which unveiled the moving causes of Senna- 
cherib's overthrow and Jerusalem's safety, shall bring to 
light the secret causes of our nation's welfare, these praying 
ones shall be found, like Hezekiah and Isaiah, the saviours 
of their country. 

2. We learn one means of perpetuating family religion. 
What shall be the destiny of your loved ones, depends 
much on your prayers. At the last day, these precious 
ones committed to your care and training here, will be at 
your side, with an angel's form and stature, glowing with 
rapture pure and eternal, or in hideous deformity and woe, 
despair in the soul and the anticipation of wrath forever. 
Which shall it be ? 

Hemember too, that the divine blessing travels down in 
the line of the family, so to speak. Such is the promise. 
" The generation of the upright shall be blessed." (Psalms 



HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 219 

112 : 2.) "Know therefore that the Lord thy God, he is 
God, the faithful God, which keepeth covenant and mercy 
with them that love him and keep his commandments, to a 
thousand generations." (Deut. 7 : 9.) JSTot a few of the 
families of our land are reaping the fruits of the piety, and 
receiving the ever-continued answers to the prayers of the 
Pilgrims, or of the godly men who first planted this wil- 
derness. 

Their influence is like the snow-drift, which disappears 
from the hill, gone but not lost. It sinks into the ground 
to reappear in the sap and growth of the summer's vegeta- 
tion, or passing into the brook and thence to the ocean, 
rises in vapor to descend in refreshing showers. So prayer 
is uttered and gone. But it lives in the memory of God, 
and will reappear in the form of future blessings, long 
after the lips which uttered the words are in the grave. 

How strong and beautiful, then, the motives which call 
on us to cultivate a spirit of prayer ! Earth's wicked masses 
demand our prayers. Our country, treasuring up sin 
faster than her wealth and population, calls on us to pray. 
The infant in its cradle, the children of your love, call on 
you to pray. From the future, from those who are to be, 
comes a voice entreating you, who are to influence that 
future, to pray. 

If the sentiments in these discussions are true, then it is 
established that prayer is a powerful means of grace, that 
by it the heart is sanctified and one's strength renewed ; that 
by it, blessings may be secured for one's family, one's 
church, one's country. The neglect of it then, involves 
very grave consequences, for such neglect does emphatically 
declare : '•' I will not try to grow in grace ; I will not care 
whether my children are saved or lost ; I do not wish for a 
true revival of religion ; I am willing my country should 



220 HEZEKIAH EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

go to destruction ; I am wholly unconcerned though the 
heathen world go on to perdition I" One may start back 
from conclusions so revolting, but are they not a true state- 
ment of the position of one who neglects prayer ? 

Most urgently, then, comes the inquiry to each, individu- 
ally : What are your habits and feelings in relation to 
prayer ? Do you pray in secret ? daily ? truly ? fervently ? 
Do you pray in your families? in the social circle? Do 
you cherish more and more a spirit of prayer ? a love for 
prayer ? 

If any one is forced to acknowledge that he wholly neg- 
lects prayer, then must these statements be true of such an 
one. He is living in known sin ; he is daily grieving the 
Holy Spirit ; he is a cumberer of the ground ; he has no 
reason to think himself a Christian. Should any conscience 
here say, " I am the man," let such an one take either of 
two courses. Let him abandon his hope and avowedly 
take the position of an ungodly man ; or let him at once 
and profoundly repent before God, and begin from this 
time to be a man of prayer. Be not willing to remain an 
hour longer under the curse upon those who call not on 
the Lord. 

ISTo doubt, there are those here who know by experience 
the value of prayer. Brother, sister, pray on — pray al- 
ways. All your secret sighs and wrestlings are written in 
the book of God's remembrance. Not a petition you ever 
uttered, fell unheard or ineffectual to the ground. The 
angels of the Lord encamp around you. God the Father, 
Son, and Holy Spirit daily visit your place of secret devo- 
tion. Pray on ! The world may not know you, it may 
despise you. Yet when the world shall be consumed, 
when our great men shall be forgotten, or remembered 
only with abhorrence, you shall be reaping in the favor 



HEZEKIAH — EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 221 

of God and in the grateful love of redeemed spirits, blessed 
by your instrumentality, the glorious results of prayer; for 
on in the boundless depths of eternity and amid the mag- 
nificence of heaven, among the crowned and lofty spirits 
before the throne, you will see the consequences of secret, 
humble prayer on earth. 

In the true idea of prayer are involved the most amaz- 
ing considerations. It is the intercourse of man with God. 
Were we to enter heaven, the least exalted spirit there 
would be high above us ; then let your eye mount upward 
step by step through the towering hierarchies of heaven's holy 
intelligences, till you reach the highest platform of created 
beings. High above them dwells the High and Holy Oxe, 
in a brightness unapproachable and full of glory, which 
even seraphim approach not, but with both wings vail their 
eyes. 

Yet we poor, sinful/beings may come into this congrega- 
tion of living ones, these exalted circles around the great 
white throne, and may present to Him who sitteth thereon, 
our requests, our interests, our wants, sorrows, and confes- 
sions. He bends his ear, listens with a father's . love, or 
rather, he himself lays aside his glory, visits the secre^ 
places of those who fear him, and " dwells as a Father, in 
the homes of earth." With what grandeur it invests the 
act of one who truly prays ! The simple prayer of a child, 
the stammering petition of a poor converted heathen, the 
weeping supplications of a penitent sinner, or of a despair- 
ing afflicted soul, rise distinct and accepted, amid the 
strains of angelic worship. They are not only heard, but 
as the prayer rises, at the word of his power, sun and 
earth, elements and nations, death and destruction, tremble 
and obey. 

You wish to leave something to your families after you 



222 HEZEKIAH— EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 

are dead. Parental love leads you to look into tlie future, 
anticipate the probable wants and dangers of your children, 
and, as far as possible, put supplies and safeguards around 
them. What is the richest legacy you can leave them ? 
an estate ? How often is such an inheritance lost, squan- 
dered, or perhaps after the painful efforts of the father to 
accumulate it, has been the means of ruining his children. 
As the event proved, he labored for their destruction, and 
in laying up property, laid up a store-house of sorrows. 

But to the pious parent, the promise descends to a thou- 
sand generations. How precious the legacy which the 
praying parent may leave his child ! Far down in the dis- 
tant future shall his prayer still be working out good ; 
when houses shall have perished, fortunes wasted, and em- 
pires, if he had them to give, crumbled into ruins. 



HEZEKIAH — THE RIGHT KIND OF PRAYER. 223 



XY. 
HEZEKIAH— THE EIGHT KIND OF PEAYEE. 

"That all the kingdoms of the earth may know that thou art the Lord God, 
even tbou only." — 2 Kings 19 : 19. 

Havesg proof of the power of prayer, yet with the sad 
fact palpably evident, that few of the countless prayers act- 
ually offered, are attended by any good results, the inquiry 
naturally arises, wherein lies the fatal defect? How comes 
it to pass that a machinery, potent and massy enough to 
shake the earth, is only a puff of air ? Some who have 
seen much prayer and little result, are disposed to think 
that there is a vast deal of exaggeration about the matter, 
and that such results are really no more to be expected 
than miracles. 

But let it be remembered that in what has heretofore 
been advanced on this subject, reference has been had to 
prayer, real prayer, true prayer ; not to that which has 
only the semblance of prayer. All realities have their 
shams, as all things have their shadows. The ponderous bat- 
tering cannon, which can shatter the heaviest wall, can have 
a counterfeit wooden one, seeming formidable in its black 
paint and warlike look, but really powerless and contempt- 
ible. 

One brief prayer of Moses or Hezekiah saved a nation or 
destroyed armies, while millions of prayers, seeming such, 



yJl&t ;i V Hi**"* /. 



My, 



224 HEZEKIAH— THE RIGHT KIND OF PRAYER. 

effect nothing. It may not be unprofitable to inquire into 
the nature of these fatal hindrances to true prayer. 

1. Selfishness corrupts many prayers. Prayer may be 
very sincere, very earnest, and yet intensely selfish. The 
swearing, gambling passengers of a ship, when the storm is 
terrific and shipwreck is near, have been known to pray ; 
literally to agonize in prayer. They were just as selfish in 
wishing God to save their lives, as they were in gambling 
for some rich dupe's money. It is possible to pray for the 
conversion of one's child, husband, or wife, merely because 
one's own domestic comfort would be promoted thereby. A 
church may pray for a revival with unfeigned sincerity and 
perseverance, merely because they are to be strengthened 
thereby ; their own congregation or influence increased. 
Any man may pray heartily and earnestly for salvation from 
hell, as he may wish sincerely and strongly to be delivered 
from any other great peril or evil. 

JNow, of course, love to one's self and to one's church are 
not wrong ; desire to be delivered from pain and peril are 
not wrong, in themselves they are right, they are a part of 
one's duty. But when made supreme, they are wrong. 
Supremacy in our affections and aims is jealously claimed 
by God. But in the cases I have alluded to, and in many 
others, self is made supreme and ultimate, while to our 
prayers, as to all other acts, applies the great generic law : 
" Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." 

Now selfishness is bad enough in any form, to take the 
soul made for the angelic work of serving God, and reduce 
it to this self-serving ; but selfish prayer is asking God to 
aid us in this work ; asking him in his omnipotence, his 
wisdom, to help bring our selfish wishes to their own 
corrupt fruition. Such prayer, or prayer thus tainted with 



HEZEKIAH — THE RIGHT KIND OF PBAYEIt. 225 

selfishness, can not find acceptance. The more sincere and 
the more earnest it is, the more sin in it. 

2. Sin indulged is another fatal hindrance to prayer. 
In one sense all sin is sin indulged ; for if a free agent sin 
at all, it is his own sin, sin which he not only indulged, 
allowed, but actually put forth, sent forth. Metaphysically 
it would be easy to prove that the distinction we make be- 
tween willful sin and any other sin, is a non-entity, is no dis- 
tinction at all ; that all sin is willful, that is, voluntary, the 
will at the time acting assent. But after all, in our own con- 
sciousness there is a very plain distinction. "We know there 
is a state in which though actually sinning, we are conscious 
also of resistance to sin ; we hate it, we struggle against it, 
we do partially overcome it, and yet we sin. There is 
another state in which the mind is conscious of no such 
earnest struggle ; it yields unresistingly, perhaps loves to 
yield, or at least excuses its sin. 

Now this last condition of mind is a fatal hindrance to 
pra}*er. For with the promise, there is also the denial : " If 
I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me." 
(Psalm 66 : 18.) " He that turneth away his ear from 
hearing the law, even his prayer shall be an abomination." 
(Prov. 28 : 9.) Nor is one at a loss to perceive the reason, 
who reflects on the divine character, and on the terms in 
which God is wont to express himself concerning sin. For 
then it presents this case, that of one making himself as 
hateful and loathsome as possible, to the very Being of 
whom he asks a favor. One who comes to pray, with sin 
indulged and unrepented of, upon him, who puts on sin as a 
garment, or who retains it in his heart or hand, does that 
which makes him a revolting object to God. " Do not that 
abominable thing which I hate," saith the Lord. (Jer. 
44 : 4.) How can his prayers be heard ? 



226 HEZEKIAH — THE RIGHT KIND OF PRAYER. 

We forget this ; and sin, unless in the gross and disrepu- 
table forms which even men detest, seems so trivial, so com- 
patible with respectability, so excusable and venial, that 
we forget how intensely revolting it is to God A little 
irritability of temper is very common — ill-natured or slan- 
derous conversation — excessive love of money — selfishness in 
one's business — remissness in duty — pride — complaining 
and discontented thoughts — covetousness — carelessness in 
paying debts — impenitence. Now a man may stand very 
fair with the world, and yet be chargeable with these and 
many other sins. He is ready to acknowledge, when they 
are brought out to his view, that they are wrong ; but of the 
intense evil of them, as sins in the sight of God, he has not 
the remotest conception. 

Yet often they stand insurmountable obstacles between 
God and the soul ; or rather entering into the prayer as an 
element, instead of a sweet-smelling sacrifice, it is rejected ; 
in the strong language of Scripture, is an abomination. 

3. Fitfulness or capriciousness hinders prayer. Pray 
without ceasing. There was a parable that men ought 
always to pray and not to faint. Prayer with some is a 
mere^ or explosion, and then the spirit of prayer dies out. 

ISTow the true Scriptural idea of prayer is, that it is calm, 
earnest, steady to its purpose. Perhaps the most beautiful 
representation we have of this quality is found in the narra- 
tive of the Canaanitish woman. (Matt. 15 : 22-28.) She 
came, you will remember, to Christ in great anguish, and 
said : " Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou son of David, my 
daughter is grievously vexed with a devil." Now Christ 
had often answered similar applications immmediately, but 
now he seemed strangely altered and insensible ; " he 
answered her not a word." Heedless of her cry he passed 
on as one deaf. In such circumstances, most persons would 



HEZEKIAH — THE RIGHT KIND OF FKAYER. 227 

have concluded that he could not or would not aid ; or per- 
haps they would have resented this cold, contemptuous 
treatment. But she persisted ; she repeated and reiterated 
her requests, till the disciples, apparently irritated by her 
importunity, following them, as we may suppose, through 
the street, interposed ; they begged Jesus to comply and 
dismiss her. He, though not directly refusing, replied 
with a remark which seemed like a refusal : " I am not 
sent, but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel." !Now 
as this woman was a Canaanite and not an Israelite, this 
reply seemed to cut off all hope. 

But hers was no fair-weather purpose. So she came 
nearer and fell down at his feet, saying : " Lord help me." 
Grief, faith, changeless importunity, condensed into three 
words. His answer was still discouraging, apparently con- 
temptuous : " It is not meet to take the children's bread 
and cast it to the dogs !" Dogs ! was she thus insulted ? 
Could there be anything to hope after this? Hear her 
answer : " Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs 
which fall from their master's table." You have called me 
a dog, which means a worthless sinner, undeserving of 
notice or favor. I am such a sinner. I know it and confess 
it, and as such I still beg for a favor which I have not de- 
served. " Her daughter was made whole from that very 
hour." 

In this you perceive no fitful, explosive bursts of prayer, 
but sustained importunity ; not the importunity of inso- 
lence, or of vociferation^ or of outcry j or noise ; but the im- 
portunity of profound self-abasement and of strong faith. 
She took the position assigned her by God, and there pre- 
vailed with God. 

If any one should be perplexed with the arrangement by 
which importunity is made essential to prayer, and should 



228 HEZEKIAH — THE RIGHT KIND OF PRAYER. 

ask : " Why does God need to be importuned, that is, to 
be asked again and again ?" The question might be an- 
swered by another : Why does God require us to pray at 
all ? make it our duty to ask even once ? because he needs 
to be informed? or persuaded? or softened? Of course 
not ; but because that mode and condition of bestowing 
blessings will have the best effect on us. As we approach 
God in the mental attitude of true prayer, there are brought 
before our minds the most impressive and purifying ideas, 
the greatness and holiness of God, the weakness and de- 
pendence of man, eternal realities. Thus each act of true 
prayer elevates, invigorates, and ennobles the soul. God, 
therefore, would have us pray and pray much. 

But in all this, some one may think, we hear nothing of 
the prayer of faith. The Scripture "makes that indispens- 
able to true and acceptable prayer. One must ask in faith, 
nothing wavering. In all discussions concerning prayer, 
this occupies the most prominent place. There has been no 
small difference of opinion as to what constitutes the prayer 
of faith. Let us attend to a few suggestions. 

One common view of the prayer of faith w T ould seem to 
be beset with insuperable difficulties. It is this, that one 
should believe that he shall obtain the identical thing that 
he asks for ; if he does not believe that, he does not offer 
the prayer of faith. But in many cases this is impossible. 

For instance, we will suppose that a. missionary is about 
to depart, and his friends assemble to pray for him, for a 
long life of toil and usefulness among the heathen. But 
w r e wish to pray in faith. Faith, however, must have evi- 
dence on w T hich to rest. ]STow what evidence is there that 
God intends that that particular missionary shall live long 
and usefully ? or that he may not allow his labors to be cut 
short in a few days ? How are we to pry into the future and 



HEZERJAH — THE EIGHT KIND OF PRAYER. %*, 

learn that fact? Yet unless we know it or have evidence 
for it, how can we believe and pray for it in faith ? We wish 
to pray for that missionary's life and usefulness, and to 
pray in faith ; and yet if this faith consists in the belief that 
we shall obtain the identical thing we ask for, then we can 
not pray in faith, for we have not and can not have evi- 
dence that this special petition will be granted. 

So in a vast multitude of cases, in which we wish to 
offer prayer. The number of cases in which we can pray 
in faith, that is, with a certainty of receiving the identical 
thing we ask, is very small. Yet we wish to make all our 
wants and wishes on all subjects relating to ourselves and 
others, the objects of prayer, and in relation to all of them 
to ask in faith. 

The following idea of the prayer of faith appears to me 
simple, Scriptural, and unobjectionable. It is made up of 
two subordinate ideas : one is, that every trueprayer will be 
followed by some result. On this point there must be no 
wavering. Sure as the laws of nature are the laws of 
prayer. No true prayer was ever lost, any more than any 
particle of matter has strayed away out of the knowledge 
and control of God, and become lost. The second idea is, 
that God, in directing the results of our prayers, will act 
with perfect wisdom and kindness, and will bring about 
those very results which are best. The mind's firm hold 
and full trust in these two positions, seem to me to consti- 
tute the faith, the essential element of acceptable prayer. 

One or two cases will perhaps more clearly convey my 
meaning. I am sick, we will suppose. There is a physi- 
cian of whose perfect skill and perfect benevolence I have 
ample and demonstrative proof. I believe with perfect trust 
that every application to him for aid will infallibly be 
attended to, and that he will examine my application 
13 



230 HEZEKIAH — THE RIGHT KIND OF PRATER. 

and give that kind of relief which his superior skill and 
benevolence may suggest. It is easy to understand with 
what cheerful faith I shall make my application to such a 
one. 

But you will perceive it is very possible for me to make 
a mistake as to what remedies are best for me. Thus, for 
instance, knowing that I am sick, and thinking myself to 
have a fever, I state my case and ask for the specific reme- 
dy for a fever. He examines my case, and finds, not this, 
but some other form of disease, and accordingly gives me 
the remedies appropriate to that disease. Here, you will 
perceive, my application was successful, and was followed 
by results. I received something which I should not have 
received if I had not made application ; I received the 
main object for which I applied — a cure ; but I did not 
receive it in the way I asked, the identical thing I asked I 
did not receive. 

We have an actual case, which perhaps still better illus- 
trates the idea. Paul was afflicted with a thorn in the 
flesh, something probably combining bodily pain and a 
temptation to sin, though its precise nature is unknown. 
Paul made application to God in the case, and applied in 
faith, for if ever a man prayed in faith, it was Paul. Paul 
knew that his application would result in good, and thought 
his greatest good would be promoted by the entire removal 
of this thorn in the flesh, and this he asked of God. God 
heard the prayer ; did that for Paul which he would not 
have done without prayer ; but saw that Paul's good would 
be best promoted, not by removing the thorn in the flesh, 
but by giving him the mastery over the pain and over the 
temptation. Accordingly this He did. 

This, then, is the prayer of faith — prayer with the fullest 
trust in the wisdom and goodness of God, in the certainty that 



HEZEKIAH — THE RIGHT KIND OF PRAYER. 231 

prayer will be followed by good results, and that in direct- 
ing results, God will see that they are the wisest and best. 

It is true there will be many cases in which there may 
be evidence that the specific thing asked for is agreeable 
to the will of God ; in such cases, of course we may expect 
to receive that identical thing. Thus, for instance, such are 
the specific promises made in relation to the children of 
the people of God, that when a pious parent, who has con- 
secrated his children to God, and is heartily aiming to 
bring them up for God, prays for their conversion, he may 
expect that the particular thing he asks will be grant- 
ed. One that is trying to be a good man, knows that 
such an end is agreeable to the will of God, and of course 
when he prays that that end may be accomplished in him, 
he may expect that the specific request will be granted. 
But that expectation does not constitute the prayer of faith. 

In conclusion, 

1. .We should bring our highest intellectual strength to 
the duty of prayer. For prayer is not a mere posture of 
the body nor form of words ; it is not like the chat and 
gossip which in daily talk flow so freely from the tongue. 
One needs, as he enters into the presence of his God, to 
eject the selfishness, the sin, the pride, the unbelief which 
fill his heart. One needs to know God, to penetrate the in- 
visible, to embrace large and magnificent topics In his 
thought. Can any one pray then, in the proper sense of 
the word, without laying out his best intellectual strength 1 
Can any one have a spirit of prayer without diligently 
cultivating it ? 

Oh! that a tithe of the energy and toil bestowed on 
petty and transient acquisitions, were laid out in cultivat- 
ing a spirit of prayer ! The merchant toils in his counting- 
room, ever acquiring till he dies. The statesman, what 



232 IIEZEKIAH — THE EIGHT KIND OF PRAYER. 

will he not do for office ? The scholar is ever grasping at 
new acquirements. No man thinks of growing and rising 
in the world, except as he toils hard. Let no one think 
that religions growth, the most difficult attainment of all, 
is to be gained by the indolent, inefficient soul. 

This spirit of prayer should be cultivated, as preeminently 
preparing the soul to meet God. Twice within a recent 
period, as if for the purpose of wide moral impression, God 
has cut down the most exalted citizens, each at the time 
filling the office of President. With very brief warning 
they exchanged the palace for the coffin — the pomp and 
power of office for a position at the bar, before a judge who 
would scrutinize their lives as carefully as that of the 
meanest slave who ever toiled unpaid for them. 

Without knowing or judging aught of their interior cha- 
racter, of this we may be sure, that the pomp, fame, and 
power they once possessed, seemed then as valueless as the 
baubles of an infant ; that if they had bowed the knee in 
prayer to God, if they met there in judgment a God 
whom they had often met here in prayer, that fact was the 
gladdest and noblest part of their earthly career. Forever 
will their acts of true prayer be regarded as great and 
worthy deeds, when all victories, rank, and power will be 
rejected as phantoms. 

2. Let us encourage our faith by frequent meditations on 
the Scriptural facts relative to prayer. Take such a case, 
for instance, as this one which has suggested these remarks 
on prayer. Sennacherib, in his proud capital, has heard of 
the presumption of the Jews in asserting their independ- 
ence. He collects his military officers, and with them 
plans the invasion of Judea, arranges the details of the 
campaign, and soon there is the noise of preparation and 
mustering of troops for the conquest. The army is in 



HEZEKIAH — THE RIGHT KIND OF PRAYER. 233 

motion — the intervening territory is soon passed, and Judea 
is overrun. His march was victory — city after city fell ; 
he had not to fight a single battle, but opposition crumbled 
away, and clouds of fugitives, like dust before the tempest, 
fled at his approach. Elated by success, he thought him- 
self a god — defied the God of Israel, and prepared himself 
to strike the last blow. He drew nigh to J erusalem, the 
only place which held out, and planted his victorious 
legions around the walls, intending at morning light to 
seize and dash his prey, as the wolf tears the lamb. 

All this time God had seemed inert, or blind, or uncon- 
cerned ; had allowed affairs to move on, as if completely 
indifferent whether the right or the wrong prevailed. But 
within the city was a man of prayer. Hear his brief but 
powerful intercession on that critical night : " O Lord 
God of Israel, who dwellest between the cherubim ! thou 
art God, even thou alone of all the kingdoms of earth. 
Thou hast made heaven and earth. Lord, bow down thine 
ear and hear ; open, Lord, thine eyes and see, and hear the 
words of Sennacherib, which hath sent him to reproach the 
living God. O Lord ! I beseech thee, save thou us out of 
his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that 
thou art the Lord God, even thou only." 

The impious conqueror was doomed. God sent his angel 
into that formidable host and slew them by legions. " Je- 
hovah has triumphed, his people are free." 

Let us study such facts till we learn to pray in faith. 

3. We learn what we are to do when our prayers are 
not answered. No doubt we have often prayed, or offered 
what we called prayer, and no result has followed. We 
have slid, it may be, gradually into the'careless and self- 
righteous conclusion, not that there is any fatal defect iii 
our prayers, but that results are not to be expected. In 



234 HEZEKIAH — THE RIGHT KIND OF PRAYER. 

this state of mind prayer inevitably degenerates into a 
mere decent formality. 

But 'with the Scriptural views of prayer before him, one 
should set himself to a close scrutiny into himself, if his 
prayers are not answered. How did I pray ? Have my 
prayers been selfish ? Mark the point and end of that 
potent prayer of Hezekiah : " That all the kingdoms of 
the earth may know that thou art the Lord God." When you 
pray for yourself, your family, your church, partisan and 
sectarian feelings may subtilly creep in and sit on the 
altar, as the serpent by the tree of life. Satan fears nothing 
so much as true prayer, and there he will try to tempt you 
into sin. 

Search and ascertain if there lurk in the heart the taint 
of an unforgiving spirit. "If ye forgive not men their 
trespasses, neither will your Father forgive you." Even 
our prayer is based on the condition : " Forgive us our 
trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us." 
An unforgiving spirit lurking in the heart, insures a denial 
to our prayers ; nay, the more we pray, the less we may 
expect, for each prayer is a request that God would not 
forgive us. ISTow when one reflects on the rivalships and 
perpetual collisions of the world, and the consequent danger 
in every heart of indulging more or less of bitterness and 
dislike, it is to be feared that many prayers are spoiled by 
this sin. 

Search whether we make exertions to obtain the bless- 
ings for which we pray. Ordinarily we must work as well 
as pray. On the day of Pentecost there was earnest preach- 
ing. Esther used every means to defeat Haman's murder- 
ous schemes. Ezra toiled to reform the people, while 
praying that God would reform them. Churches work 
when they are revived. 



HEZEKIAH — THE RIGHT KIND OF PRAYER. 235 

ISTow it is to be feared there is much praying, which is 
only a sincere but idle and inefficient wishing. There is a 
prayer for the conversion of souls, but no earnest effort for 
their conversion ; prayer for missions, with very stinted 
aid to missions. There is the prayer, " Lead us not into 
temptation," but no effort made to keep out of temptation. 
The prayer, " Sanctify our hearts," and but faint personal 
exertions to attain sanctification. Thus if our prayers are 
not answered, let us search deeply, thoroughly, f and rest not 
till we have found out the reason and set ourselves to pray 
aright, for as surely as God lives, no true prayer shall ever 
be offered before his throne in vain. 



836 TRINITY. 



XVI. 

TEIKITY. 

" Canst thou by searching find out God ? Canst thou find out the Almighty 
unto perfection ?" — Job 11:7. 

To many persons a great stumbling-block in the way of 
their receiving the Gospel, lies in the doctrine of the Trin- 
ity. Its plain and affecting teachings, respecting the work 
of redemption in Jesus, are founded on a great mystery in 
the iucomprehensibility of God. The Trinity will be my 
subject at this time; a subject which has awakened inter- 
minable controversy ; on which writers innumerable have 
tried their intellectual skill in attack or defense. Almost 
every one has been perplexed by it, or has discussed it, or 
has been perplexed by what others have said in the dis- 
cussion of it. 

My object, however, is not to prove the doctrine of the 
Trinity, nor to explain it. Let this be distinctly under- 
stood ; but as I think that most of the perplexity and dis- 
pute which have environed the doctrine, have resulted 
from the mistakes of men in their mode of thinking and 
reasoning about it, the present object will be to point 
out those mistakes, and to set forth some of those principles 
which should guide our inquiries. It is a subject that can 
not be so simplified that it will require little thought ; on 
the contrary, it must be dull and unintelligible, without 
close attention. ' 



TRINITY. 237 

1. The application of the wrong faculties of the mind to 
the apprehension of the doctrine, is one common and radical 
mistake and source of innumerable difficulties. Multitudes 
here diverge from the path of sound philosophy at the out- 
set, and soon become entangled in metaphysical swamps, 
where they flounder about, without even reaching bottom 
or shore. Lest this remark should seem arrogant, I give 
the following reasons for it. 

Most persons, when they think of the Trinity, use that 
faculty of the mind termed conception or imagination. The 
mind has, as you know, the power of recalling or painting 
out for itself a picture of what it has once seen — a building, 
a landscape, a human face ; or if an object never seen by 
us, be described to us, we are able to carve out a mental 
image of it in the imagination. We conceive of, we have 
some idea of scenes vividly described by the traveller. 
This power is of great use. We are thus continually bring- 
ing up, in pictures or in imagination, things unseen or re- 
membered. 

But this faculty has its own appropriate sphere ; out of 
that, it works only mischief. It can take cognizance only 
of material things, of things which have form, size, color, 
parts. What the eye can see, or the hands handle, the 
mind can conceive of. Now the mistake is, that from the 
power of habit, men try to use this faculty to grasp or 
understand subjects which are out its sphere. In so doing, 
we act like the man who should run a chase to grasp the 
end of the rainbow, as it rests apparently on the distant 
horizon. After floundering through bogs, tearing his flesh 
and clothes in thickets, and running till he drops with fa- 
tigue, he would be as far from the rainbow as ever. The 
rainbow is something which the hands can not handle, 
which is to be investigated not by the sense of touch, but 

13* 



238 , TRINITY. 

in some other way. The hands, though very useful, are 
not competent to grasp a rainbow; the attempt to use them 
for such a purpose, indicates folly, and ends in trouble, not 
in knowledge. 

Yet men commit a mistake precisely analogous, when 
they use this power of conception or imagination, in spi- 
ritual things. T have known persons do this, in thinking 
about the soul or spirit. They think of the soul in the body, 
as a sort of point, or minute atom, somewhere in the brain ; 
or as something rather shadowy, diffused through the 
whole brain or body. Or they think of the soul out of the 
body, as having form, parts, size ; a dim, misty resem- 
blance perhaps to a human form. They are using the ima- 
gination, which can only be used about material things, in 
thinking of immaterial things. 

The same mistake is committed in thinking about God. 
Men use their imagination. The mind labors as it were to 
grasp the infinite God ; it pictures to itself some rather in- 
definite form — gigantic — of a vast being, diffused through 
space ; it clothes him with an august, human form. Then, 
conscious that such a mode of thinking about God is some- 
how erroneous, there is an effort to think of him without 
the imagination. Then the mind seems to be making 
struggles to grasp a great nothing. Hence the complaints 
we sometimes hear of the difficulty of thinking about God ; 
of getting any clear idea of him. 

The use of the imagination, in all these cases, is as pre- 
posterous as the attempt to apply material measurement to 
spiritual ideas. Thus we have a clear idea of moral obliga- 
tion. But suppose I ask how many pounds moral obliga- 
tion weighs? or how many rods long moral obligation is? 
We reply, moral obligation has neither length, breadth, nor 
thickness ; you can not put it in the scales, nor measure it 



TRINITY. 239 

with line or rule. It has a reality and a nature of its own, 
but not body, nor material form or substance. So in think- 
ing of moral obligation, we do not use the imagination ; we 
do not think of it as something tall, or large, or heavy, or 
resembling a man's form. The mind has imagination 
wherewith to think of material things, and quite other 
powers, wherewith to think of spiritual things. 

Just this mistake is committed in thinking about the Tri- 
nity. Men hear of it as something threefold — three in one. 
They go to work with the imagination, trying to conceive of 
something which shall combine these incompatibilities. 
They can not do it ; this arithmetical fact, that three are not 
one, and one is not three, and that no effort of mind can 
conceive of such an equation as possible, rises up as in- 
fallibly certain. So the doctrine is branded as an absurd- 
ity, and of course rejected. The logic is equal to that of 
one who should reject the doctrine of moral obligation, be- 
cause he* could not imagine how large it was, or how many 
pounds it would weigh. 

Again, some believers in the doctrine set their imagina- 
tions at work, to prove the possibility of a Trinity. Our 
theological books are full of all manner of theories, founded 
on material analogies, originating in the imagination. One 
will tell you, that the sun and the light streaming from it, 
are different, yet indivisible and coexistent, and so image 
forth the unity yet separableness of the Father and the Son. 
Another holds up water, snow, and ice, as illustrating unity 
of substance and trinity of form. Another says, that as one 
man may hold three distinct offices, as judge, deacon, and 
bank-director, being one in person, yet threefold in office, 
so one God may sustain three offices, as Father, Son, and 
Holy Spirit. 

These illustrations are simple and intelligible enough. 
But they are all founded on this fundamental mistake, of 



2-iO TRINITY. 

applying the imagination to matters with which the ima- 
gination has nothing to do; of supposing that the interior 
mode ot the divine existence may be analyzed like a drop 
of water, or packed into the compass of a figure of speech. 
They are only more refined and intellectual modes of doing 
that which is exhibited in a revolting form, in one of the 
magnificent Popish cathedrals in Europe. The painter has 
represented the Trinity by an old man on a throne, a 
man on the cross by his side, and a dove hovering over the 
heads of both. These illustrations no more aid the mind to 
true apprehensions of the Trinity, than the little bronze 
Hindoo god, kept as a curiosity in one's cabinet, aids us in 
forming an idea of Jehovah, the only God. 

Having examined the perplexities and objections, which 
have been started respecting the doctrine of the Trinity, I 
find most of them to have their origin far back, in the at- 
tempt to figure out or imagine, on the basis of material re- 
presentation, a unity combined with threefoldness. We 
must discard all such attempts. 

2. That some analogy is to be traced between the mode of 
divine existence in Trinity and any mode of created ex- 
istence, is another mistake. 

God is a spirit — I am a spirit. So far I was created in 
the divine image. On this basis some persons have 
reasoned : as we are conscious of no threefoldness in our- 
selves, we know of none in any intelligent being ; there 
can not be any in God. So they will not believe any 
mode of existence to be true of God, of which they have 
not found some analogy in inferior existence. 

It is useful, therefore, to reflect on some facts in the mode 
of the Divine existence, utterly different from and contra- 
dictory to our mode of existence. Select, for instance, the 
Omnipresence of God. The fact that God is omnipresent 



TRINITY. 2-Jrl 

is universally conceded. So far as I know, all who believe 
in the existence of God at all, of all denominations, and in- 
fidels even, believe that God is omnipresent. ISTow let us 
observe : that this attribute or mode of the divine existence 
is different from any thing in our mode of existence ; that 
it is utterly inconceivable ; that it involves apparently 
startling contradictions when we try to conceive of it, 
under the forms of the imagination. Yet is it undeniably 
true. In other words, it involves the same difficulties with 
the Trinity, yet is undeniably true. 

We exist in one place at one time. It is not possible, 
nor conceivable that we should be in two places at one 
and the same time. It is a downright absurdity and con- 
tradiction, to affirm any such ubiquity of us. Yet it is 
true of God. God is here ; God is in each star ; God is 
every where. This does not mean that God stretches him- 
self out, or expands himself, so that he reaches every where, 
as we extend our arms, and a part of one is here and a part 
there ; it does not mean that God is in one place, looking 
every where. But God is here — God is here, as I am here. 
God, not a part of an expanded being, but Jehovah is here ; 
is in each star ; is at each point of infinite space. Now 
try to conceive of that by the imagination, as men try to 
conceive of the Trinity, and we imagine a thin kind of 
ethereal existence, expanded every where, or of individual 
units here, there and every where. 

Again, see what contradictions we make out of it, when 
we try to reason on the subject with the imagination. If 
God is here, that is one being ; if God is at yonder star, 
not a part, but the actual God, then there are two beings. 
You may give the same name to both, but if God is here 
and God is there, then there are two beings, as really as 
if you had said : God is here and Jupiter is there. Your 



242 TitiNirY. 

doctrine of the omnipresence makes as many gods as there 
are places or points in the universe. 

Moreover, there is another contradiction. ~No statement 
is plainer, than that two things can not be in one and the 
same place at one and the same time. Thus this book 
occupies a certain place. While there, nothing else can 
be there ; force can crush it, move it, annihilate it ; but 
while there, nothing else can be there, not even light or 
air. The light is all about it, but in the identical place 
which the particles of matter in the book occupy, not even 
light can be. Eow apply this self-evident proposition to 
the doctrine of the divine omnipresence. There is a solid 
stone wall, it occupies place. Nothing else can be in that 
place. Of course God can not be in the precise place occu- 
pied by the solid stone, though he may be all about it. Of 
course if I could get inside of that stone, I should be where 
God is not. God is not, therefore, omnipresent, or if he 
be, it involves the absurdity and self-evident impossibility 
of two things being in one and the same place at one and 
the same time. 

How do we settle all these difficulties and contradictions, 
all of which seem to be logically reasoned out ? We brush 
them away as cobwebs. We take these fundamental posi- 
tions : there is one God, He is infinite. In that infinity 
there must be modes of existence entirely unknown and in- 
conceivable to us. God is like himself, not like us. His 
mode of existence is not the mode of an animal's existence, 
nor the mode of man's existence. He is omnipresent. 
The mode of that omnipresence, and how it is reconcilable 
with other facts we do not know and can not conceive of, 
though the fact of that omnipresence is most intelligible 
and demonstrable. 

Now the Trinity, like omnipresence, is a mode of divine 



TRINITY. 243 

existence, not a mode of man's existence. It expresses 
something in the interior mode of the divine existence. 
You can not then reach it by any analogy drawn from 
finite existence. 

Moreover, reflect how little we know of the nature of 
spirit, even the interior nature or construction, so to speak, 
of one's own spirit. Of the fact of the existence of spirit, of 
one's own soul, we are sure ; and that it has certain powers, 
attributes or faculties, we know. But of the interior na- 
ture, construction or mode of existence, of our own selves, 
our spirits, we know absolutely nothing. Stranger still 
that we, capable of knowing so many things at a distance 
from us ; of sounding the depths of the heavens, of weigh- 
ing even the planets which are so many millions of miles 
from us ; of following the wild comet in its flight of hun- 
dreds of years into infinite space ; yet, capable of that, can 
know nothing of the interior nature or construction of our- 
selves. Of our acts, our thoughts, our feelings, we can take 
cognizance ; but of the mode of existence of that which 
thinks and feels, we know nothing. 

Now the Trinity is a mode of the divine existence, it is 
the interior nature of God. Yet men reject it, because 
they can not understand it ; because they can not dissect 
it, take it to pieces and re-construct it like a machine ! 

3. Facts may be provable and .intelligible though the 
mode of their existence be unknown. Illustrations of this 
are countless. Plant side by side the peach, the rose, the 
tobacco-plant. Their roots go down into the same soil and 
moisture. Apparently the same substances are carried by 
the root and stalk to these several plants, and by them con- 
verted into the delicious peach, the beautiful colors of the 
rose and the acrid poison of tobacco. The fact is simple 
enough. But how are these wonderful transformations ef- 



214 thin it Y. 

fected ? We cut up these roots and stalks, we find no 
machinery nor agent there, nothing but a collection of 
minute tubes. 

Eow can you, philosopher, tell me how this is done ? 
Here is this peach, beautiful in color, rich in flavor, tell 
me how the earth and moisture lying at the root are 
changed into this delicious substance, and the same mate- 
rials, taken up by another set of roots, are transformed into 
the vile and filthy tobacco. " Oh! nature does it." But I 
wish to know how nature does it. " Oh ! it is the result of 
vegetable chemistry." Well, how does vegetable chemistry 
do it ? " There are certain laws of nature." But laws do 
nothing. They are simply rules according to which an 
agent acts. 

Thus all the answers we obtain to the question, " How 
are these changes effected ?" are merely different modes of 
saying : " The changes are in fact brought about in some 
way or other." If then, in the commonest objects about 
us, there are unfathomable mysteries, concerning which 
we can not answer the question, How can these things be ? 
then surely there may be something in the interior mode of 
the divine existence, above our comprehension at present. 
In relation to the peach we can establish certain facts, its 
growth, color, taste, whether we can tell how they come 
to pass or not. So in relation to God, we can establish 
certain facts, and these remain true, whether we can tell 
how they are, or not. 

The doctrine of the Trinity relates to the interior nature 
of the divine existence. The Scripture does not use the 
word Trinity, neither does it attempt the slightest explana- 
tion or metaphysical discussion of the doctrine. It deals 
simply with facts, plain facts. 

Thus, for instance, the Bible, in oft-repeated and explicit 



TRINITY. 245 

language, asserts that there is one God, one only living 
and true God. But this statement throws no light on the 
internal mode of the divine existence. Some seem to 
imagine that the expression, " One God," does disclose 
something of the nature of God. But it does no such thing. 
It merely proves that whatever God is, however he exists, 
there is one such Being. If I say there is one government 
in China, that expression does not in the remotest degree 
indicate the nature of that government, whether it be mon- 
archical or republican, free or despotic, complex or simple, 
just or oppressive. The unity of the government is a plain 
fact, its nature is quite another fact. So there is one God ; 
whatever he is, and whatever the mode of existence, there 
is but one such being. 

Then the Bible speaks of God the Father. That is a 
plain, intelligible fact. Again, in quite an incidental way, 
as a fact without discussion, it speaks of Jesus Christ, " who 
is over all, God blessed forever." Having occasion to illus- 
trate the beauty of self-sacrifice and humility, it enforces 
the duty by the example of Christ, " who, being in the 
form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God ; 
but took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in 
the likeness of men, and became obedient unto death." 
Thus the facts are stated. The Bible does not undertake to 
philosophize on the interior nature of that Being of whom 
these facts are spoken. Men try then to dissect this divine 
nature. They find themselves baffled. They reject the 
facts. It would seem to require but little modesty or com- 
mon-sense, to see that if, with our present faculties, we can 
not know how a peach or a grape grows, then we are quite 
incompetent to understand the mode of the divine existence. 

Thus we have not attempted to prove the doctrine of the 
Trinity, but simply to indicate some mistakes which are 



240 TRINITY. 

made, and some general principles of reasoning, which 
should guide our thinking. These remarks seem to meet 
the fundamental objections which are so common. 

The universal objection to the doctrine of the Trinity is, 
" It is impossible." What is impossible ? The thing or 
conception of Trinity, in your mind, formed out by imagi- 
nation, may be impossible ; the theory which men have 
formed about the Trinity, may be impossible. But is it 
impossible that there should be one God ? Is it impossible 
that Jesus Christ should be in the form of God, and think 
it not robbery to be equal with God ? Is it impossible that 
this one God should exist with an interior nature, rightfully 
styled Father, Son, and Holy Spirit ? Before any one, as 
a sound philosopher, can say that, he must arrive at such 
an intellectual stature, that he can truthfully say: "I have 
investigated and do know all actual modes of existence, 
and all possible modes of existence, in all worlds and all 
beings, created and uncreated. I have fathomed and dis- 
sected the being of the infinite, self-existent God ; and as 
the result of this investigation, and as matter of my certain 
knowledge, I declare it impossible that there should be a 
mode of existence styled a Trinity, or in Bible language, 
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit." Who can say that ? If you 
can not, then it may be possible ; and surely, a thing which 
may be possible, is not impossible. 

" But I can not understand the doctrine," is another 
common objection. What can you not understand ? Can 
you not understand the text : " Hear, O Israel, the Lord 
our God is one Lord" ? Yes. Can you not understand the 
text : " Of whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ came, who 
is over all, God blessed forever " ? Then what can you not 
understand \ " There is something about this threefoldness, 
I can not see through." That simply means, that the in- 



TRINITY. 247 

terior nature of God, and the mode of the divine existence, 
you do not understand. Yery possibly. But when you 
can comprehend the mysteries of your own existence ; when 
you can tell how or what a spirit is ; when you can tell 
how the work of germination and assimilation is carried on 
in a blade of grass, it will be time enough to complain of 
the mysteries of the divine existence. 

It can hardly be expected that He who is infinite, whose 
omnipresence, omnipotence, perfections, are infinite, will 
alone be so without mystery, that our puny, blind intellects 
can see into his nature as one would see the mechanism of 
a watch, which can be taken apart, examined, and re-con- 
structed. 

We are taught by this subject the wonderful condescension 
of God. The doctrine of the Trinity is often rather con- 
temptuously spoken of as a mere speculative, metaphysical 
matter, of no practical importance. It is often discussed as 
such. But taken in its connections, and with all involved 
in it, the system of redemption, and the incarnation of 
Christ, it becomes a truth of immense practical power, pre- 
senting to the mind motives of vast influence. 

All comparisons fail to set forth the greatness and con- 
descension of God. Let us attempt one. From some emi- 
nence we look down, to-day, upon a great city, and admire 
its extent, wealth, power, its splendid edifices, crowded 
wharves, its thronged streets, and busy crowds. To-mor- 
row, the whole scene is black with desolation ; fire has 
passed over it ; the earthquake upheaved it ; all its inha- 
bitants have perished — it is blotted from existence. 

To us the desolation would appear wide and dismal. To 
one who could at a glance look over the earth's surface, it 
would only be the disappearance of a little speck. To the 
eye of Him who comprehends infinite space, all that, and 



248 TRINITY. 

the same destruction over the whole globe, would be no 
more than to us the uprooting of a blade of grass upon the 
prairie. With what veneration then should we look on 
the descent among us of Him who made all these things ! 
What a grandeur it throws over the system of redemption, 
that it was wrought by Him who disrobed himself of uni- 
versal monarchy ; came to this petty and polluted place, 
and let himself down to sorrow, infamy, and death, for us. 
In such love there is a height, a depth, a length, a breadth, 
unfathomable and mysterious as the nature of his own 
being. 

It presents the most powerful motives to be good like 
Him, and to hate the sin which he hates. We have this 
amazing thought. He who was in the form of God, wrap- 
ped himself in dust and ashes ; came to associate with a vile 
race ; came" to pluck out of the h're some worthless fire- 
brands, which only deserved to be burned. The design of 
all was to lead men to love Him and to obey Him, just as 
all his goodness was so designed. He did not bring the old 
Jews into a land flowing with milk and honey, that they 
might revel and enjoy themselves, but that they might 
know and love the Author of all good. He did not make 
our nation so wonderful in its growth, that we might be 
proud and rich ; that we should sustain our institutions by 
the blood of the oppressed, and the unpaid toil of the poor ; 
but that we should obey God ; that, like God, we should 
impart — impart to all whom we can reach, the religion 
which blesses us, the liberty which elevates us. So Christ 
gave himself for us, that we should not live unto ourselves, 
but unto Him that died for us. 

In the Trinity is involved a system of redemption from 
the power of sin. In Christ is atonement to cleanse away 
guilt. In the Spirit is power to liberate the mind from its 



TRINITY. 2-1:9 

bondage ; to overcome the devil, and conquer sin. With- 
out the Spirit, the heart is hard. As well expect marble to 
weep, or iron to bewail itself, as the soul thus infatuated by 
sin, to repent without Christ. But when the Spirit reaches 
us, the heart, though callous or hardened, becomes sensitive 
to truth, as the eyeball feels the smallest dust or mote, and 
lias no rest till it be washed away. 

Herein is the ground of the peculiar aggravation of all 
sin committed since the coming of Christ. Before he came, 
we are told, " the times of that ignorance God winked at." 
There were sins of oppressions, lies, idolatries, and revolt- 
ing atrocities, before Christ came ; sins so great, that God's 
wrath in flood and fire was revealed against them. But 
comparatively they were less. The great act of divine 
mercy to sinners had not yet been performed. The coming 
of Christ, while it makes salvation possible for all, renders 
him who will go on in sin, a worse sinner than he could 
have been without Christ. One, whom the work and love 
of Christ does not soften nor reform, carries about the 
plague-spot of one given over to ruin. He may be crowned 
with honor and wealth and fame, but is only therefore like 
the tall, magnificent tower, which the lightning strikes 
more surely. 



250 PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 



XVII. 

PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

" For there is one God and one Mediator between God and men — the mau 
Christ Jesus." — 1 Timothy 2 : 5. 

In Christ we not only see God manifest in the flesh, but 
a divine human nature ; manhood perfected, a pattern 
man. Such an example was given us for our study and 
imitation. Let us therefore consider the man Christ Jesus, 

Quite singularly it is difficult to appreciate and admire 
the character of Christ, because it is so familiar to us. 
Christ, was almost the first word we heard after emerging 
from our cradles ; his memoirs in the New Testament 
among the first lessons we learned. Familiar objects, how- 
ever magnificent, men pass in dull apathy, and gaze with 
intense excitement and wonder on some petty novelty. 
Who gazes at the morning sun with rapturous emotion? 
Yet the world runs half mad to see a balloon ascension. 
So Christ, the magnificent development of a perfect, divine 
man, we overlook like a thread-bare story, and sit admir- 
ingly at the feet of some political candidate, or hero whom 
the world calls great. Were you asked to leave the house 
to behold the most splendid sight in the world, and then 
told to direct your eyes to the sun, you would feel in your 
disappointment that you had been deceived, and might ex- 
claim contemptuously: " Is that all? we have seen it a 
thousand times." I almost fear a like exclamation, in set- 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 251 

ting forth Christ, the Sim of Righteousness, for your con- 
templation. 

In estimating character rightly, we should understand, 
1. The times and circumstances when the man lived ; for 
these test the intellect and the manhood. Now, we assert no 
special heroism of the man who comes to worship God on 
the Sabbath. But when the old Scotch Covenanter was 
obliged to meet his fellow-worshippers in some deep moun- 
tain glen, and there risk the blood-hounds and bullets 
which a demon king kept for his God-fearing subjects ; 
then it meant lofty courage, fearless obedience, and the 
spirit of martyrdom, to say that one went to public wor- 
ship. There is now no sublime manifestation of character 
in the simple act of entering one's chamber to pray alone ; 
but there was matchless greatness and heroism in so doing, 
when the man was told that if he knelt there he must be 
torn from his palace, stripped of wealth, and, like the vilest 
criminal, suffer a revolting death in the den of lions. Even 
the child is not peculiarly precocious or intelligent, who 
now knows that the earth revolves around the sun ; but 
once it was only the most brilliant and daring genius who 
knew this great fact. 

When Christ lived, heathenism and moral darkness, like 
a perpetual Egyptian night, had settled d own over the 
nations. Egypt, which had been the most enlightened 
and civilized nation in the world, whose architecture in 
ruins is now the admiration of mankind, was degradingly 
idolatrous, worshipping crocodiles and cats, serpents and 
bulls, demons and dead men. The great men were as stu- 
pidly pagan as the masses. Farther east, in the lands 
where the human race originated, and where to the patri- 
archs God had revealed himself, men had lost the small 
portion of religious truth they once had, and worshipped 



252 PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

the sun, or fire, or the devil. Greece and Rome, the Eng- 
land and France of that day, whose literature, sparkling 
and enduring as the diamond, has been the model for 
scholars down to this day, had a religion, elegant indeed, 
but debasingly sensual. The Egyptians kept a living black 
bull in the costliest of their temples, and to him, as the em- 
bodiment of their God, the nation did homage. The Ro- 
man and Grecians worshipped a Jupiter, a Yenus, and a 
Mars, personages as ferocious and bestial as the god of the 
Egyptians. 

No man will try to be better than the god he worships. 
The disciple of Yenus must believe that the sensuality of 
the god was allowable and becoming in the man ; one 
who prostrated himself before a bull could hardly cherish a 
morality purer or kinder than the object of his adoration. 
Accordingly the state of morals in the heathen world was 
such that we can only draw a veil over it, as we do over 
other shocking and revolting scenes. 

Here and there a wise and upright man, like Socrates 
and Plato, floated on this dead ocean of corruption, like 
the ark over the waters which had buried all mankind. 
But they regarded the world's reformation as hopeless. 
One tried to elevate a few pupils whom he gathered into 
his school ; the other struck a few blows at the vices of his 
countrymen, and received the usual reward of superior in- 
telligence and goodness — hate and death. Lycurgus train- 
ed up a nation of soldiers, with all the vices of soldiers ; his 
Spartans, perhaps the best. of the ancient nations, were a 
hardy, stern, cruel race of warriors. 

Great and essential truths, now familiar to the child, 
were either unknown or doubtful to the wisest man. There 
is one, and only one, living and true God. Even the great 
Socrates held it only as part of a poisonous mixture of 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 253 

» 

error, for he also believed in a crew of inferior gods, to be 
worshipped and propitiated. Of the soul's immortality, 
and the grounds of salvation or condemnation, the mass 
of mankind was profoundly ignorant, and the wisest only 
dimly saw, as one in a dark night, with strained eyes, can 
perceive a few indistinct outlines of a house or tree. 

In this state of the world, in a remote province of the 
Roman Empire, and in a district proverbial for the vices 
and ignorance of its inhabitants, appeared a boy named 
Jesus. His parents were poor ; he had no means of educa- 
tion beyond the instructions of his mother, and perhaps 
the meagre advantages of a school connected with the syn- 
agogue in his native village ; he had no cultivated society, 
whence he might have gathered ideas and plans ; he had 
no books but the Old Testament, for in that age the price 
of one volume exceeded the wages of years ; his only trav- 
els were from Nazareth to Jerusalem at the stated feasts ; 
his only companions the people of his own illiterate neigh- 
borhood. He worked in a mechanic's shop ; he had no 
powerful friends, no wealth, no fame, none of the ordinary 
means nor machinery for greatness and influence. Such 
were the times and circumstance in which this young Jew- 
ish " carpenter's son" emerges from obscurity and stands 
on the world's platform. 

Let us now consider, 

2. The ends which this man proposed to accomplish. 
Some men have formed great plans, but their ultimate ends 
were selfish. Alexander was a great man, he meant to 
accomplish great things, and did so. A great king and 
conqueror, he cut his way to empire through and over 
masses of human flesh, and waded through blood to his 
throne. Bonaparte was a great man, but his path to great- 
ness was over the sacrifice and blood of millions of other 

14 



254: PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

men. Power and glory are the ends that the common 
herd of great men propose to themselves. Great energies 
and talents expended for ends paltry and base, and the ex- 
altation of their own petty selves. 

This man Jesus had far different, far nobler aims ; aims 
which for extent and grandeur and benevolence, never 
were before conceived of. The sad condition of the human 
race stirred his soul. Part of mankind were hordes of 
savages, ferocious and brutal as the beasts of prey they 
hunted ; even the civilized races were slaves of superstition, 
some worshipping reptiles and some Beelzebub. In im- 
perial Rome, the very stones were slippery with the blood 
shed in her civil wars. In India, even then, the widow 
was burned on the funeral pile, and the infant w r as thrown 
into the Ganges. " There was none that did good, no, not 
one." Such was the world into which Jesus came, and 
where he meant to accomplish something. 

He meant to make the knowledge of the one living and 
true God a common and influential idea among all people ; 
he meant to uproot and eject from men's belief and rever- 
ence, the false gods who had usurped the place of the true 
God, and lead them to worship Him alone. The masses of 
the people for thousands of years given over to idolatry, 
the wisest of men, like Socrates and Plato, who only re- 
tained the-knowledge of God in connection w T ith the belief 
and worship of inferior gods, were to be disenthralled from 
their superstitions. Ideas, either buried out of sight or 
doubtfully discussed in a few philosophic circles, were to 
be made familiar to all ; the young, the uneducated, the 
debased, were to be enlightened and made free. 

He meant also to bring about an entire moral reforma- 
tion in a world where immorality was fashionable and re- 
ligious, because gods were immoral, and where even the 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 255 

best teachers, with some truth, taught the lawfulness of con- 
venient sin ; one like Plato insisting that a father might law- 
fully kill his child, if it were deformed or troublesome ; an- 
ther, as Aristippus, teaching that adultery and theft were 
right in certain circumstances ; a third, as Seneca, arguing 
the rightfulness of suicide. He meant to make wars to cease, 
to demolish every idol temple, to release every slave, to 
make the earth's abominations pass away " like the mist 
which rolls up the mountain side before the morning sun, 
that the whole earth from its numberless habitations should 
send forth the high praises of God." Ends these, which 
in his circumstances, seemed like an attempt in the darkest 
night to illuminate and warm the earth's surface with 
candles. 

As these ends were great and benevolent, let us contem- 
plate, 

3. The means by which he designed to secure these 
ends. As a help to a just appreciation of his character as 
developed in his selection of agencies, let us notice the 
simplicity, silence, and vastness of the operations of God, as 
contrasted with the friction, noise, and petty results of 
man's best inventions. The rain and the dew fall for the 
most part gently ; the sun-light of a spring morning comes, 
sweetly and silently falling on the earth. These, as great 
moving forces, set at work the laboratories under ground, 
and in process of time whole continents are covered with 
grass, fruits, and shrubs of most wonderful workmanship. 
Silently, quietly, all is wrought. Man builds a manufac- 
tory at vast cost and toil, sets his complicated machinery 
in motion, the air resounds with the din, and after all he 
produces a few packages of goods. 

Of a like boisterous and noisy kind have been some 
men's religious movements. Mohammed undertook the in- 



256 PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

trodnction and diffusion of a new religion among men. 
lie set forth with military prowess and display, thundered 
along at the head of fifty thousand cavalry, and backed by 
such an army of warrior missionaries, offered conversion or 
death to the people. Romanism has tried her hand at the 
work of religious propagation ; she seated herself on a 
throne instead of a pulpit, fortifies her palace with cannon, 
surrounds herself with the bayonets of soldiers instead of 
Bibles and tracts, and bedizens herself with pompous pro- 
cession and gaudy ceremonial. Such is the lumbering 
and noisy machinery to diffuse a religious system. 

Mark now the agencies selected by the man Jesus. 
Wealth, power, pomp, all the paraphernalia by which men 
are dazzled, he might have used. But he rejected these 
coarse and common-place agencies, and chose to use alone 
the sweet, gentle, instrumentality of moral influence. He 
himself visited and preached among men as a friend and 
brother. He selected a few plain men of his fellow-citizens, 
who without pomp or noise were to gain access to other 
men, place before them the evidence that Jesus was the 
Messiah, and urge on them repentance and faith. As 
other minds yielded to the truth, they in their turn were to 
speak to their friends and neighbors of the truth of God. 
Instead of armies charging down on foes, they met in quiet 
and tearful prayer-meetings ; instead of a hierarchy of im- 
posing splendor, there was simply a plain preacher, trying 
to convince men of the truth. Strength was to be de- 
veloped in suffering ; greatness was to assume the form of 
lowliness ; sin and hell were to be fought and conquered 
by love and truth. 

Men love power ; to wield it on the right side and make 
it the servant of religion. Christ might have had it and 
would have used it with perfect benevolence and wisdom. 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 257 

But lie would not have it. He threw it away as unfit for 
use in so holy a work. If the truth could not induce men 
to come to him, if they rejected, scoffed, persecuted ; their 
bitterest opposition was met by no violence. Though all 
agencies were at his disposal, legions of angels at his call, 
he refused all such aid. He would only reform men by 
truth ; by the foolishness of preaching save them ; by the 
weak things of the world, conquer and bind the mighty. 

In using these means we may contemplate, g 

4. The traits of character he exhibited. Yery marked 
and prominent was a strong will ; a tireless energy and 
perseverance in the execution of his plans. It is compara- 
tively easy to form great plans, or rather to dream of great 
things, for the plans of many men are more like dreams 
than well-digested schemes for effecting great results. One 
will form at night some good resolution, or capital plan for 
doing good to-morrow, and goes to sleep proud in anticipa- 
tion of what he will do. To-morrow his courage fails, in- 
dolence hangs back, difficulties rise up, and all the plans 
and resolutions he so complacently formed at night, fade 
like the golden fringe on a western evening cloud at sunset. 
Such a character we despise, though the man be what we 
call good. 

A strong energetic will we admire, even though it be a 
wicked one. It constitutes the sublimity of sin. Hell's 
king, Milton represents as unconquered in will by Omnipo- 
tence, as cherishing " an all-defying pride ;" loving "Hell's 
burning throne," and grasping at the crown, though it 
burns into the brow that wears it ; and when his sin has 
crushed him with unutterable agony, he only exclaims : 
" Evil, be thou my good !" 

This strong will and a good heart, form the perfection 
and sublimity of goodness, developed in its highest form in 



258 PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

Christ. When the time arrived for the execution of his 
plans, without boastful ness or timidity, he entered on his 
work, though knowing well that it was a path of lire, end- 
ing in /the cross. He did not pursue it with occasional 
paroxysms, but with calm, steady courage. Discourage- 
ments hung on him like mountain weights ; his own friends 
called him mad ; his own countrymen rejected him ; chief 
men opposed him ; government threatened him. A feeble 
man can n^ot endure jeers and contempt. If he enter on a 
plan and one laughs at him, another wonders at his folly, a 
third frowns, a fourth opposes ; he soon grows weary, loses 
confidence in himself, thinks that other people are wiser 
than he, and abandons his plan. All this Christ met, but 
nothing moved him from his purpose. 

'No personal danger affected in the least his calm and 
iron determination. He worked at his plan over a volcano 
of hate and power, and under a storm of abuse and perse- 
cution. Jew and Roman, Herod and Pilate were his ene- 
mies. He chose poverty and suffering, his enemies piled 
on him contempt, infamy, and torturing death. Yet his un- 
conquerable will yielded neither to malice, power, nor pain. 

He met that species of treatment, desertion of friends, 
under which strong-minded men who never feared an 
enemy have desponded and fainted. At Pilate's bar, all 
men forsook him ; not a disciple stood by him, having fled 
like cowards or traitors ; one of the best of them denied 
him ; he was insulted and condemned and subjected to 
those humiliations which break down the spirit more than 
pain, like being struck and spit upon. Yet under such 
treatment and walking to Calvary, he was as calm, as de- 
termined in his purpose, as though like his Father, God, 
he were proceeding in the might of his power to trample 
his enemies under foot. 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 25$ 

None of these discouragements and perils affected the 
uncompromising exhibition of his message. Prudence 
would have whispered in Christ's ear : " Gain the Roman 
governor ; secure the leading men among the Jews ; keep 
back for a time unpalatable truth." But Christ, while lie 
would use no means but truth, used that boldly and un- 
compromisingly. Practically he said: "I find myself in 
the midst of sins, enormous, deep-rooted, wide-spread. If I 
gain a man's favor by concealing the truth, I can keep his 
favor only by continuing that concealment. Truth and sin 
must come into conflict and one be exterminated, and in 
this death-grapple Godspeed the right." "Without coward- 
ice or bravado or excitement, calm, dignified, and respect- 
ful, before Sanhedrim, Pilate, or the mob, he used fearlessly 
the truth. 

Truth bright and unadulterated, truth and right in the 
abstract. Unqualified and peremptory his demand was : 
" Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye 
even so to them." He ascends yet higher in his require- 
ments : " Be ye perfect, even as your Father which is in 
heaven is perfect." What loftier abstraction could be 
uttered ? Neither did he try to draw from a text any 
meaning more favorable to sin. Instead of that, he held 
up those dazzling abstract principles of right, as sunlight, 
wherein the hideousness of sin might be plainly revealed, 
and then applied these abstract truths with tremendous 
severity : " Whosoever is angry with his brother without a 
cause, shall be in danger of the judgment." " W T hosoever 
shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell-fire." Oh ! 
how such lofty abstractions made the sinners of that day 
either repent or blaspheme. 

As digressive for a moment, though illustrative of the 
main topic, I will here say, that Paul, who more nearly 



260 PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

than any other man, resembled his Lord, pursued the same 
course. When before Felix — that Felix who had the power 
of life and death — whom it was of the utmost consequence 
to him personally to conciliate, he pursued a line of argu- 
ment, beautifully disinterested and bold. Paul felt that it 
was not necessary for him to live, but it was necessary that 
Felix should hear the Gospel ; so he reasoned of righteous- 
ness, temperance, and judgment to come ; in other words, 
he applied to the sinner before him, the abstract principles 
of right. 

In Christ were all the elements of true greatness. A great 
intellect, for he promulgated truths, and formed plans, such 
as the greatest and wisest before him had never dreamed 
of; a strong will, moving onward to his purpose with the 
inflexible perseverance of fate ; lofty heroism, able to look 
down on perils and sufferings, without moving a hair's 
breadth from duty ; sublime disinterestedness, devoting his 
plans, intellect, will, and himself, to the sole purpose of do- 
ing good. Considered simply then as man, Jesus was the 
noblest, purest, greatest man ; the model whom the world 
of men should study and imitate. 

But I should omit a very important part of my sketch, 
should I not advert to some other qualities, not usually asso- 
ciated with great intellectual and executive powers. Great 
and good men are sometimes stern and unattractive. The 
play of the gentler feelings seems to be checked by the ex- 
ercise of thought and care. They either can not or will 
not make themselves agreeable and lovable, to the young 
and timid around them. Possibly they deem it rather un- 
dignified so to do. ISTot so with Christ. Though engaged 
in vast concerns, with an unconquerable will, and bold to 
rebuke powerful sin, and to meet danger and death, he had 
also those gentle and graceful qualities which endear to us 
onr friends in domestic life. 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 261 

He was evidently fond of flowers. He draws his illustra- 
tions from the lilies of the field, like one who loves to con- 
template their beauty. In his Sermon on the Mount, his 
various allusions to natural objects, indicate an habitual 
pleasure and taste in the view of beautiful landscapes. 

He loved children also. When some parents were de- 
sirous that their little ones should receive his attention and 
blessing, and his disciples disliked their intrusion, Christ 
rebuked their want of gentleness, called for the children, 
took them in his arms, and blessed them. It would seem, 
too, that he endeavored to make himself agreeable to child- 
ren ; that they were fond of his company, and hung about 
him ; for on several occasions, when a dispute arose among 
his disciples, he took a little child — probably one of those 
who had been attracted to listen to him — and set him in 
the midst of them, for the purpose of illustration. 

How beautiful and instructive ! He who was forming 
and executing vast plans, buffeting his way against deadly 
opposition and formidable obstacles, yet indulging one of 
the gentlest of all attachments, a fondness of children, ca- 
ressing them in his arms, and winning their presence and 
love. He knew that a dark storm was gathering over his 
head ; that malignant enemies were on his track, thirsting 
for his blood, and he was with iron inflexibility breasting 
the storm ; and yet he loved the family-circle, and his 
affectionate heart took pleasure in the play and gentleness 
of infancy. So that we find in Christ not only God and 
man — a divine and majestic man — but one with the most 
gentle and beautiful forms of manly character. 

The man Christ Jesus is to be studied and imitated. I 
suspect that our views of the divinity of Christ, make us 
half- reluctant to view him as man, lest in some way we de- 
tract from his glory ; or perhaps there lurks beneath a vague 

14* 



262 PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

feeling, that he was not a real man, but only something 
under the form of man. But why did he come as man, 
instead of coming as he will hereafter, to judge the world, 
in overpowering splendor ? Why did he spent thirty years 
in the ordinary occupations of a man ? with the trials and 
sufferings of a man ? with the bodily infirmities of a man ? 
Evidently that he might be known, loved, and imitated as 
a man ; that we might see the beauty of perfect manhood, 
and be incited to seek for the glorious realization of it in 
ourselves ; that we might see religion not only taught in 
precept, but embodied in one perfect example ; and that 
we, by gazing on him, should catch something of his spirit. 
The religion we see in our fellow-men, is dwarfed and 
deformed; we are inclined to be very well satisfied with 
ourselves, if we reach the average stature of goodness in 
those about us. But Christianity appears in her native 
beauty and divine perfection in Jesus Christ, that we in the 
comparison may despise ourselves and aim higher. There 
was one perfect man, for the standard to all future men ; to 
teach us how to live as men. 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 263 

/ 



XYIII. 
PERSONAL CHAEACTER OF CHRIST. 

"For there is one God and one Mediator between God and men — the man 
Christ Jesus." — 1 Timothy 2 : 5. 

'No doubt many questions of duty, questions for which 
we find no specific directions in the Bible, and which often 
painfully harass us with doubt, would easily be settled by 
the student and imitator of Christ. When one finds him- 
self floating about in a mist of uncertainty, with conscience 
and inclination, perhaps, like opposing winds, driving him 
to and fro, let him look unto Jesus, at his principles and 
life, and then put to himself the inquiry, How would he 
have acted in my circumstances ? It will generally be 
found very easy to answer that question ; the honest mind 
can as easily then ascertain its own duty. 

Let us bring out distinctly the inquiry, How would 
Jesus Christ do if he were here, a resident among us, in 
our present circumstances, engaged in our business ? That 
he would be conscientiously honest and industrious, we are 
sure ; that he would be true as steel to his engagements, we 
are certain ; that his work would be well done, and his word 
to be relied on, we know. But we are sure too, that over 
and above all other aims would be the desire to carry out 
fully and to the utmost possible extent, in this particular 
locality, the plans formed for the renovation of the world. 
There would be a whole-souled enthusiasm, a joyful, untir- 
ing activity in plans for reaching the careless and wicked. 



26i PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

If in a prayer-meeting, he would be satisfied only with actual 
communion with God. If he taught in the Sabbath-school, 
he would be satisfied with nothing less than the true con- 
version of his pupils. He would make himself felt for 
good every where ; the Church would feel his good influ- 
ence ; all with whom he came in contact would feel a sanc- 
tifying power. 

Let us then, as we feel in ourselves low and selfish tend- 
encies, and these are made stronger both by the encourage- 
ment we have from seeing the same tendencies in others, 
and from the temptations of a selfish world ; let us often 
bring to our thoughts the noble, disinterested man, Christ 
Jesus. Then, when sloth would persuade ns that duty was 
not our duty, his voice would ring out clear, above the din 
of temptation, stirring up the soul like martial music : 
" I have left you an example that ye should follow my 
steps." " Let the same mind be in you, which was also in 
Christ Jesus." 

In temptation too, study and imitate Christ. It is well 
for us, with a wise self-distrust, to remember our liability to 
fall before temptation ; not to feel as some appear to do, that 
temptations will not affect them, or that they are in no 
danger, from some kinds of sin at least. For who among 
us considers himself capable of profane lies, of drunkenness, 
or of murder ? Yet into one or the other of these, Peter 
fell — T^oah fell — David fell — men as unlikely, from their 
former character so to do, as ourselves. Who then are we 
that we should be secure in the hour of temptation, if God 
do not aid us ? Well has one said : " If you are in no danger 
from temptation then are you less than a man or more than 
an angel." We must have help then or we fall and perish 
^emedilessly. 

The man Christ Jesus was ternpted. Danger and suffer- 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 265 

ing tempted him, but he did not swerve a hair's breadth 
from the course of doty. Pleasure or gain he might have 
had to the utmost of all conceivable gratification, but he 
was not enticed thereby to one moment's neglect of his own 
high aims or self-denying work. Mark the way by which 
he dashed temptation aside, like poison from his lips. It was 
by the simple use of the sword of the Spirit. When the devil, 
either in blandishment or wrath, came to him, it was a 
plain text of Scripture, which met him as a thunder-bolt. 

If you would resist temptation study Christ's plan. 
There is the Bible whence to draw the same potent wea- 
pons wherewith to fight the devil. If you say, Christ could 
resist by the divinity which dwelt within him, there is the 
same divinity, even the Holy Spirit, to help you. 

You may not be exposed to gross temptations, but the 
two great perils, the monster whirlpools, near which your 
voyage in life leads yon, are the love of pleasure, and the 
complete and supreme devotion of your hearts to the world 
in the form of business or politics. And to increase the 
danger the way of duty leads close on the outer verge of 
these whirlpools, and even close in among them. Many a 
man's soul is drawn in and almost hopelessly involved. 

LQok then unto Jesus, who went over this same perilous 
voyage. O my young friend! in danger of becoming a 
lover of pleasure, more than a lover of God, see that young- 
Jew, who might have had all the pleasures of the world, 
by only willing them, yet left them as baubles, at the call 
of duty, and found more joy in doing good than in pleasing 
himself. O man of the world ! look to that perfect model 
of a man, in whom the highest form of manhood was 
developed — duty, religion, for these he lived ; the world 
he kept in its own paltry insignificance. 

Be cheered too by the fact that he now sympathizes with 






266 PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

the tempted soul, for lie was tempted in all points like as 
Ave are. He sees from his watch-tower in the heavens the 
struggles between that soul and the tempter, with as much 
interest as Moses looked on the desperate fight between 
Israel and Amalek. When you go to him in prayer he 
will remember his own conflicts, and will love to help those 
engaged in the same warfare. His own personal experi- 
ence will be security for his sympathy and aid to you. 

We should labor with his Spirit to extend the kingdom 
which he established. We have not his talents and power, 
but his spirit, his zeal, we may possess. He went through 
toil, suffering, hate ; overcame the powers of darkness, and 
having finished his earthly career and reassumed the glory 
which he had with the Father before the world was, he 
loves the cause for 'which he died, and sees how they work 
who are intrusted with it. Reason's ear can hear bis 
voice : "Soldiers of the cross, are you marching onward ? 
are your peaceful victories extending on every side ? Sab- 
bath-school teachers, are your pupils in the way of life \ 
Fathers, mothers, are your children trained for God \ 
Young men, young women, are you bearing the cross and 
employing your youthful energies for Christ? Christians, 
are souls feeling the influence of your prayers and exer- 
tions ? Lights of the world, do you shine ? is your light so 
clear and brilliant, that many shall come to the brightness 
of your rising ? 

There was a time when nearly all the Christians in the 
world were gathered at Jerusalem in an upper chamber. 
But they did have the spirit of Christ. They prayed, and 
three thousand were added to the Lord. They went out 
to preach, and all Judea was pervaded by their doctrine. 
All over Asia the knowledge of the Lord was spread. Out 
of voluptuous Greece were gathered efficient churches. 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 287 

Persecution prepared her dungeons, and fires, and instru- 
ments of torture ; they were scattered like chaff before the 
whirlwind. Christianity entered Eome, the great metro- 
polis of the world, and thence spread like light over the 
earth. 

We are called to enter on this same glorious work. Even 
after so many centuries, there still come up from all parts of 
the world voices of sin and woe, calling for help. The in- 
fant is yet thrown into the Ganges as a horrible propitiation 
to a heathen god, and its shrieks call on us to come and de- 
liver the mother from her bondage to superstition. The 
moan of every slave, robbed of liberty and right, calls on 
us to feel, to pray, to act for his redemption. The broken 
hearts, the maddening cruelties in every drunkard's home, 
the fearful guilt of every drunkard staggering on the down- 
ward road, the glimpses we occasionally get into those 
abysses of degradation and woe which lie concealed in the 
debased portions, especially of large cities, all send pierc- 
ing cries for aid and deliverance from the iron yoke of sin. 

Now when the only perfect man who ever lived on 
earth — the only divine man, of the most capacious intel- 
lect, of a genius so grand that he whom we profanely style 
the god-like, shrivels like a pigmy before him ; when such 
an one was on earth, he heard those cries, and esteemed 
nothing so worthy of his soul's desire and of his life's efforts 
as to remove that sin and suffering. We then shall ap- 
proach to the perfection of his manhood, just to the degree 
that we enter into his views and work for his ends. 

As we thus look unto Jesus, let us remember the mo- 
mentous words : " If any man have not the spirit of Christ, 
he is none of his." If Jesus were to look on us, would he 
not see that which would make him in sadness say, Is this 
your love to me? Did the covenant you made with me, 



268 PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

mean that my cause should have a very low place in your 
affections? that my cause was to give way to your favorite 
plans? Do I deserve this at your hands? Do you re- 
member what I have done for you ? Do I ask you to do 
or to suffer one millionth part of what I did for you ? Once 
my cause went forth with bow and crown, conquering and 
to conquer. Does it now ? among you V I have given yon 
a divinely wise plan for the reformation and salvation of 
men. All around you are cases which cry out for the ap- 
plication of this divine remedy. The wicked and the vile 
call for help. The thoughtless ones all around you, seem 
waiting like the sick^and lame atBethesda, for the troubling 
of the waters. What are you now doing with my Gospel £ 

Let us still further be urged to imitation of, and coopera- 
tion with Christ, by what sin has done in our world. So 
far as we know, there is going on in this world, a conflict 
between sin and holiness, such as is found in no other part 
of the universe. In heaven, holiness is supreme ; in hell, 
sin has gained the victory : but on earth the conflict is go^ 
ing on in every country, in every town, in every heart, be- 
tween sin and holiness, God and Satan. Sin is fearfully 
strong, and appears only to bring woes, tears, and remorse ; 
it has over-mastered man with horrid despotism, and bored 
men's ears to perpetual slavery. Sin gets into the Church, 
and like a wolf devours the flock, and leaves the print of 
his hoof on the souls of men. 

Christ's Gospel is the great agency for carrying on a con- 
flict with sin ; for rescuing souls from its sway, and ejecting 
it out of the world. The Church, by the very vow of mem- 
bership, are, in the use of this Gospel, to pursue and van- 
quish sin, every where so busy in crowding into the bottom- 
less abyss the souls of men. By this she is to throw down 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 269 

the golden image which sin has set up, to crumble and scatter 
it, like the chaff of the summer threshing-floor. 

So acting in our work as Christ did, and would have us 
do, we may expect his protection. Let the heart of a Church 
beat warm and true to the claims of her Lord ; let her 
members respond cordially to the calls of Christ, for aid in 
the work of revivals and missions, of benevolence, and tem- 
perance, and freedom ; let their feet ever be found in the 
footsteps of their Lord; will he leave such a Church to ex- 
plode or to die out ? Never. Faithful to her Lord, the 
Church would be like the Xazarite Samson, who grew up 
to noble strength so long as in obedience to his vow his 
unshorn locks waved upon his shoulders, and slew his ene- 
mies with the feeblest instruments. It was not till he laid 
down his head among sensualities, a sleeping or heedless 
contemner of his God, that he was delivered over to the Phi- 
listines, w T hose ungodly scoffers derided him as he ground 
in their prison-house. From that awful doom, O God ! 
keep thou us. 

This imitation and work will be delightful. What can 
be more delightful to one right-minded, than to be the 
herald and bearer of heavenly truth from God to man ? by 
faithfulness in duty to be the means of bringing about in a 
human soul a new creation into the likeness of God ? What 
grander object can the human mind live for, than to be 
like the Sun of Righteousness, breaking in on the gloomy 
and dead hearts of men, and raising them from death in 
sin, to be the children of God ? 

Will we imitate Christ ? will we follow him, and be glad 
to spend and be spent in his service ? This would be a 
mark of discipleship. In the reign of Decian, one of the 
old, persecuting Roman emperors, it was enacted by law, 
that whoever persisted in adhering to Christ, should, among 



270 PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

other punishments, be branded on the forehead, with a red- 
hot iron, with a cross, or the letter C. There the mark or 
scar would always remain indelible. To every passer-by 
would thus be proclaimed : " That man is a Christian." 

"What was burnt into their flesh, let it be burned into our 
hearts ; let our imitation of Christ be so complete and 
thorough, that, as if branded with his mark, we shall be 
known as his disciples. 

Let me here again allude to a feeling, which, I fear, 
breaks really the force of Christ's example, and often creates 
rather discouragement than holy emulation, as the mind 
contemplates his surpassing excellence. It is the feeling 
that he is divine, superhuman, and therefore could not be 
actually designed as an example, with any real expectation 
that we should be like him. But let us remember this ob- 
vious yet sometimes forgotten fact, that when numbers are 
engaged in securing a common result, there may be the 
widest possible diversity of talents and position, with the 
closest resemblance, even identity, in character and spirit. 
In our revolutionary war, for instance, there was a vast 
distance in genius, power, rank, and position between 
General Washington and an obscure young girl in Phila- 
delphia. Yet that girl, in risking her life to carry import- 
ant intelligence for miles, on foot, in a winter's night, to 
the camp, developed courage, patriotism, the same spirit, 
in short, as that great soldier and great man. 

Or let us suppose that God were about to create a new 
world, to be inhabited by a new and glorious race of be- 
ings, whom he was to create. But instead of forming this 
new globe by a direct act of his power, he intends to asso- 
ciate with him in the work, a great number of subordinate 
agents. He therefore assembles a vast congregation of an- 
gels and bright spirits ; unfolds to them his plan; informs 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 271 

them what part of the work he intends to execute ; what 
part they are to perform, and assigns to each his individual 
department. To some the work assigned is very inferior, 
and apparently unimportant ; others have a more glorious 
and delightful portion of the work. God, over all, does 
what omnipotence alone can do. Now, as they proceed to 
their several allotted stations, is it not plain that all may 
have one spirit, may be alike in spirit ? that the lowest one 
can do his work for the same ends, and with the same spirit 
as God himself? that, so doing, there would be no impro- 
priety in the assertion that he was imitating God ? that he 
was like God ? that the vast and infinite distance between 
him and God, need constitute no actual impediment to his 
aim, and successful aim, in imitating God ? 

Now, Christ, the divine and perfect man, came into our 
world to commence and carry out a vast system of bene- 
volence and salvation. He performed a certain part of the 
work himself. For its completion he associated with him- 
self all his true followers, and each in his sphere, has his 
own portion of the work to do. Each one, then, can truly 
and beautifully imitate Christ ; each one can cherish the 
same spirit as Christ, and do his portion of the work, for the 
same ends as Christ did his. 

The fact then, that Christ was a divine and perfect man, 
should not discourage us, for it is his true manhood that 
we are to imitate. We are not to indulge any secret feel- 
ing that 'we are not really under obligation to obey this 
divine man ; for in the spirit of our lives, we can and should 
imitate him. The possibility of so doing, should rouse us 
to glad effort to reach so exalted a privilege. 

We may imitate his combination of qualities. We love 
and admire in the character of Christ, the beautiful combi- 
nation of affectionateness and courage, of high social quali- 



272 PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

ties, and faithful adherence to principles. We find him 
mingling freely in the society of the day. lie was at a 
wedding, and shared in its cheerful socialities. At another 
time we find him dining as an invited guest, at the house 
of Levi, with a considerable company. He was a frequent 
visitor at the house of Lazarus. His personal attachments? 
as in this case of Lazarus, were evidently strong. His love 
to children, and their interest in him, have already been 
spoken of. 

We often find these attractive qualities in a class of per- 
sons whom we like much, but who are also rather effemi- 
nate and timid. They like sociality, and wish to be liked, 
so they put their principles' in abeyance; have no fidelity 
or courage to rebuke sin in their associates ; can see ruinous 
vices in the community around them, and be dumb, lest it 
should break up the pleasant and familiar acquaintance 
they wish to keep up with every one. They are pleasant 
companions, but useless members of society. 

But Jesus Christ united this affectionateness and com- 
panionableness with the sternest fidelity and courage. The 
very men with whom he dined, when their false principles 
and sinful habits were alluded to, he rebuked with uncom- 
promising severity. The chief men in the community, be- 
ing also chief men in false doctrine and sin, he dealt witli 
unsparingly, and held them up to the abhorrence of their 
fellow-citizens. His own intimate and loved twelve dis- 
ciples, when they needed it, he censured in very plain and 
severe terms. As a preacher he held up the loftiest stand- 
ard of morals, and denounced the sins of his own age and 
nation with fearless honesty. 

Great abuses and sins are sometimes regarded with a sort 
of superstition ; as having vested rights to perpetuate 
wrong ; as having some tremendous and mysterious power 



PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 273 

of mischief, so that men fear to attack them. But if some 
bold spirit strike the first blow, then others follow. There 
was at Alexandria, in Egypt, a magnificent temple of the 
god Serapis, in which was a colossal statue of the god. The 
emperor ordered the temple to be destroyed. But there 
had long been propagated a sentiment among the multi- 
tude, that, if this statue were demolished, the heavens and 
the earth would fall into ruins, and chaos come again. 
Large bodies of men assembled at the temple, but awed 
by this old superstition, no one ventured to touch it. That 
vast incarnation of sin seemed to defy and threaten oppo- 
nents. At length a soldier advanced with an axe, and with 
one daring blow, dashed in the cheek of the image. ISTo 
convulsion followed. The poor stone god, this incarnated 
sin, was impotent. The populace gazed a moment, then, 
exchanging superstitious awe for contempt and hate, pro- 
ceeded with the work of demolition. 

Thus has Christ set us an example of proceeding with sin 
— old, well-established sin. With him as leader, we may 
follow his example. Yet was he not harsh and forbidding 
in his character, but with this awful abhorrence of sin, 
cherished unfeigned love and pity for the sinner. Happy 
for us, if we thus like Him, could mingle in the world, as 
man with man, and yet faithfully rebuke the world's sins. 

His personal character is an encouragement to all to 
come to Him. When the soul is oppressed with a sense of 
sin, and Christ is pointed out as the Saviour, a sense of un- 
worthiness stands like a flaming sword, barring up all ac- 
cess. " Oh ! I am so unworthy," is the usual lament and 
excuse of the conscience-stricken sinner. Of course, you 
are unworthy ; but come, for his character is all love. " But 
I can not." Hear what is said of Him: "To those who 
have no might, he increaseth strength." Come then, sinful, 



27-i PERSONAL CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

vile, though, you may be. "But sin stands there, ready to 
drive me back. 1 ' No ; sin stands there, ready to introduce 
you. Hear one of old, who plead for pardon, and successfully, 
too : " Pardon my iniquity, for it is great." The more the 
sin, the stronger the proof of Christ's dying for thee ; for he 
meant to make his atonement available for the chief of sin- 
ners. " But he will surely cast me out." Look and read 
what is written over the very door of his palace : " Him 
that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." 



THE HIGHER STATE. 275 



XIX. 
THE HIGHEE STATE. 

11 For this cause 1 bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that he would 
grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might 
by his Spirit in the inner man ; that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith ; 
that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with 
all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height ; and to know 
the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all 
the fullness of God. Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly 
above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, 
unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world 
without end." — Ephesians 3 : 14, 2L 

Christianity is life, not death. Religion is progress, not 
inaction nor declension. Conversion is the beginning of 
life and progress, just as the oak emerges from the acorn, 
to grow up large and strong, with massy timbers and deep 
roots — not a puny weed to wither and wilt as a little 
dwarfed thing a few inches high. How often is the young 
convert told, with an ominous look : " You will not always 
feel as you now do ?" Of course he will not. He ought to 
feel and act a great deal better than he now does. He 
ought to have a great deal more life and strength than he 
now has. Such he assuredly will have if rightly trained. 
He is converted to life and hope. How wicked to plunge 
him into cold, black doubt ; to make him feel that he is 
doomed to it. It is like taking the new-born infant, and 



276 TiJE HIGHER STATE. 

plunging it into a snow-drift, instead of allowing and 
aiding it to live and grow in the bosom of love and care. 

See what a glorious and beautiful life is pictured out in 
this prayer of the Apostle for the Ephesian Christians. There 
one can learn into what kind of state he expected them to 
advance after conversion. Let us study it clause by clause. 
Oh ! that the divine Spirit would open our eyes to see the 
loveliness and nobleness of the character, and awaken 
within us the intensest longings for its actual realization in 
ourselves. 

" Strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner 
man,' 1 that is, that the human soul may have transfused 
into it the strength of the divine Spirit. The infusion of 
soul into soul, is not out of the range of natural experience. 
A kind of influence seems to pass from one to another, as 
really as the strange and almost vital fluid passes from the 
battery into and along the wires. A regiment of cowards, 
on the fall run from danger, has been arrested, turned 
back and made to fight even to the death, by the voice 
and presence of some bold, earnest commander. 

Strong with God's strength ! A human soul, with God 
in it ! What can it not effect ? How easily, then, can the 
soul crush its own passions ? 

The old fable tells of the infant Hercules, who, in his 
cradle, was attacked by two huge serpents, but the babe 
mastered and strangled them. So will the soul, strengthened 
with might, put down dead at its feet its own reptile pas- 
sions. Many a man stung with shame and self-contempt, 
because after all his resolutions to do better, he has acted 
like a fool and dishonored God, has w T ept in anguish. De- 
spairing man ! you want not more resolution, but God's 
strength. Then would your passions become like lions 
tamed and working peaceably at your will. Pride, ambi- 



THE HIGHER STATE. 277 

tion, temper, envy, bate, covetonsness, and all the hateful 
brood of viperous lusts engendered in the soul, would per- 
ish, as when the tread of Omnipotence annihilated the army 
of Sennacherib. 

Strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might, the 
soul would be equally victorious in its contests with out- 
ward temptations. The cords which bind fast an infant, 
the strong engine in its speed snaps without feeling or 
knowing it exerted any power. Could any sensual gratifi- 
cations entangle in their weak snares the soul borne on in 
the mighty car of God's strength 't Does the sun care, or 
cease his progress, or his work of blessing the earth with 
light and warmth, because Satan hates his beams, or men 
scoff at his heat or his spots ? Not more would the soul 
stay its course of duty, for opposition or laugh or contempt, 
if carried on by the mighty power of God. Money, the 
world, associates, all the hindrances in the way of duty, 
the soul with arm invigorated by divine power, would just 
pick up and cast aside, as one easts out of his path a pebble 
or a bramble that may happen to lie in his way . All diffi- 
culties he either breaks through or carries along with him, 
as Samson carried off the gates of Gaza. 

God's strength can bear any load of trouble. The bur- 
den laid on the soul is sometimes fitly compared to moun- 
tains ; and one feels as if staggering about under a crushing 
weight. Sometimes one is compelled to see his own hopes, 
the long-cherished plans and aspirations in which his hap- 
piness was garnered up, all dashed into fragments around 
him, with much the same feelings which he would have, in 
seeing the torn and mangled limbs of his murdered child- 
ren scattered about his dwelling. One has to endure 
bodily pain, which occasionally swells up into acute physi- 
cal torture, under which one wilts like a dried leaf in the 

15 



278 THE HIGHER STATE. 

furnace. In that furnace God sometimes holds the soul, as 
the workman thrusts the iron into the hottest fire, and there 
holds it long, to try its power and purity, and lets the fire 
exhaust its intensity. 

Alone and in its own strength, the soul becomes infuri- 
ated, or almost savage, or sullenly rebellious, or fainting 
and unspeakably wretched under such inflictions. But in 
the strength of God the mountain becomes light, and the 
load of sorrow, touched by the finger of God, lifts itself as 
lightly as a cloud-mountain rises and disperses at the heat 
of the sun. Armed with this power, the soul can see its 
darling hopes dashed in pieces, nay, can, if need be, crucify 
them, as Abraham took the knife to slay his own son. 
Such is the condition of a soul " strengthened with might 
by his spirit." 

How different that from the condition of a soul holding 
so loosely to its religious principles that it is turned like a 
weather-cock by every little gust of outward temptation ; a 
soul that cowers and trembles, and runs away at any little 
threat of self-denial or difficulty ; that, after years of a pro- 
fession of religion, is the same weak, ill-tempered, stunted 
thing it was at first ! Our text describes a state in contrast 
with that, of surpassing beauty and strength. This we wish 
to attain. 

The Apostle proceeds : " That Christ may dwell in your 
hearts by faith." You perceive that the figure is drawn 
from the incarnation, the strongest possible mode of speech. 
In that great act of incarnation, God dwelt in human flesh ; 
in and through the forms of humanity God spoke and 
acted, so that what to outward seeming was man's act, was 
really God's act. In that wonderful manner is expressed 
the indwelling of Christ in the human soul ; a union, an 



THE HIGHER STATE. 279 

influence, an intimacy so close that the man's acts are as 
it were Christ's acts. 

Or to convey the idea in another form, let us suppose a 
human body in which dwelt two souls, one far superior to 
the other in wisdom, love, and all noble qualities, but be- 
tween whom there was entire unity, and the closest affec- 
tion and mutual confidence. The inferior soul with delight- 
ed willingness listened to the rebukes and counsels of the 
better soul ; leaned on his wisdom, drank in of his spirit, 
and acted on his suggestions. Thus was the lower soul im- 
bued with all the noble qualities of the higher soul. They 
dwell together. Now Christ, with an intimacy and indwell- 
ing almost like that, resides in the human soul. That is 
the state of mind with which w T e need to be experimentally 
acquainted. 

" That ye, being rooted and grounded in love." When 
you have looked at a large tree, have you ever thought of 
the immense strength, the wide reach, and the firm anchor- 
hold of the roots which support that ponderous mass ? As 
it is swayed from side to side by the tempest, the strain and 
purchase, as mechanics say, on its fibres and roots are pro- 
digiously violent. Yet it stands erect ; and, indeed, as one 
looks at a beautiful tree, tossing about its huge arms as the 
wind sports among them, his imagination deems the tree, 
like a sentient being, rejoicing in this wild play with 
nature's elements, instead of fearing to be torn up. It is 
rooted and grounded. By that strong and beautiful figure 
is represented the love of the soul to Christ, its affections 
encircling, clasping, and clinging to him with that deep- 
rooted tenacity which no force can sever, just as you can. 
not tear up the oak without tearing up a part of the earth. 
Oh ! how different a state of mind is that from the apathe- 
tic acknowledgment of Christ as a kind of technical or theo- 



280 THE HIGHER STATE. 

logical Saviour ! Such a mind, with the joyful, burning 
zeal of seraphim, would engage in the work of serving 
Christ. Thus rooted in love, how would the soul grow, ex- 
pand in eternal verdure, and bear perpetual loads of rich 
fruit ! That state of the soul is most desirable. 

" May be able to comprehend with all the saints what is 
the breadth, and length, and depth, and height, and to 
know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge." The 
clause just commented on describes the soul's love to 
Christ ; this one alludes to the love of Christ for man, and 
the desirableness of knowing somewhat of its infinite ex- 
tent. It passeth knowledge; there is no likeness to which 
we can compare it ; and all our suppositions, however 
strange, or in words extravagant, utterly fail to represent 
it. Oh! how we need to catch a glimpse of that love 
which passeth knowledge ! 

" And be filled with all the fullness of God." Language 
of amazing import : " Filled with all the fullness of God." 
What can it mean % What is God full of ? Of goodness, 
of light, of benevolence, of hatred to sin. These, overflow- 
ing from that infinite source, come not down in scanty 
drops into the human soul, but fill up man's soul, even ac- 
cording to the infinite fullness wherewith God himself is 
filled. 

It is to be particularly observed that all the representa- 
tions of the text imply permanence — a state of mind the 
farthest possible removed from declension or fluctua- 
tion. " Strengthened with all might by his spirit." A 
strong man is one who is so always ; strong for days, 
strong for years. He is not always exercising his strength, 
but there it is, a permanent thing, ready to be used, and 
actually used when each emergency comes. If mere phy- 
sical strength thus abides, will not God's strength be perma- 



THE HIGHER STATE. 281 

nent in the soul ? That soul will not have family prayers 
to-day, and be weary of them to-morrow ; have zeal this 
week, and be dead the next ; be alive at one time and 
. buried in worldliness at another. That soul will be always 
revived, full of life ; when a revival comes for others, it is 
ready, with loins girded, works in it ; and after the revival, 
is going forward with the same earnest and animated heart 
as ever. 

The word u dwell" involves permanence : " that Christ 
may dwell in your hearts by faith." One's dwelling-place 
is the place where he always is. If one wishes to find his 
neighbor, he goes to his dwelling-place. One's own home 
and house one retains with firm hold, and is only driven 
out by violence. The heart then in which Christ dwells, 
will be constantly under divine influence. Just as the fur- 
nace, which is heated by the glowing fires within, does not 
depend on the outward air for its temperature, but is hot, 
whether a July sun or a Greenland winter and freezing 
storms are about it ; so the soul sustained and guided by an 
indwelling Christ, is always full of life and zeal, whether 
the glow of a revival or the reign of spiritual death, and 
vice be all about him. 

Most plainly here is revealed a state of the soul, different 
and move glorious than that of simple conversion. Conver- 
sion consists of the mind's intelligent view of its own sinful- 
ness ; of cordial sorrow for that sin, and entire trust or com- 
mittal of the soul to Christ for pardon. It is a radical 
change of character. But the soul is still full of the evil 
habits which years of sin have engendered ; thoughts in- 
clined to run in the deep ruts of worldliness and folly 
which they have worn for themselves ; passions grown 
strong by long indulgence, which chafe at restraint; while 
darkness, doubt, and strange fluctuations of feeling bewil- 



282 THE HIGHEK STATE. 

der the soul. It is a new creation, but often a new creation 
in chaos. One who lias been brutiskly and willfully ignor- 
ant, and is now emerging out of that state, and with su- 
preme desire to get learning, has learned the A, B, C, has 
become a changed and new man. But he has only learned 
the alphabet. There is yet before him a universe of know- 
ledge. Conversion is as when an army has besieged a 
city and taken it ; the victorious host are masters, the city 
has changed hands, and the conquering soldiers are in act- 
ual possession of all the strong points ; but there are yet 
many of the old hostile inhabitants in the city, who will 
fight long and desperately, who can be put down, and who 
will be put down, but there must be hard fighting for it. 
That is one state of the city. The condition is very differ- 
ent when every one of these old internal enemies has been 
killed or driven out ; or so few are left lurking about that 
they give very little trouble, and the new lord of the city 
reigns over a peaceful and joyful population. 

A crying evil, as I deem it, is that men stop short at con- 
version. We urge the sinner to be converted, and when 
we have brought him to that point we drop all further care 
for him, as if all the work we cared to accomplish for him 
w T ere done. Our own spiritual care for ourselves termi- 
nates on efforts to examine the question, Are we converted ? 
If we settle that point to our satisfaction, we feel that our 
great work is done, and rest as if the sabbath and end of 
the Christian course were reached. 

ISTow the text describes a condition of the soul of which 
conversion is the necessary pre-requisite, but which also in- 
volves a great deal more than conversion. Strengthened 
with God's power in the inner man is more than the simple 
act of repentance. The dwelling of Christ in the soul is 
more than the soul's act of trust in Christ for pardon. The 



THE HIGHER STATE. 283 

soul rooted and grounded in love, and filled with all the 
fullness of God, is in a very different state from one half 
bewildered, groping about, and doubting at each step 
whether it has yet found the right path. 

It is a state of the soul to which every manly and ingen- 
uous mind must aspire, as its ideal of moral beauty. Strong ! 
who would not feel himself more of a man if able to see his 
own internal bad passions, for which he despises himself, 
dead or dying at his feet ? if no longer so foolish or so weak 
as to be frightened or allured by every temptation which 
met him? Whose whole soul would not be ennobled and 
purified if the master passion in it were love to Christ ? 
What meanness, envy, covetousness, or lust could find place 
in such a soul, anymore than reptiles could be harbored in 
heaven ? What loftier excellence could the soul desire 
than to be filled with the fullness of God ? 

It is then a question to be pondered with interest by every 
sober mind, Is such a state of soul embraced among the 
objects of the Gospel, a part and parcel of it as a system, 
and designed for all Christians, as Christians, just as really 
and truly as the pardon of sin is a part of the Gospel and 
designed for all men ? May I rationally, and as a com- 
mon Christian, expect to attain it ? Should I put myself to 
the seeking of it, just as I try to put my impenitent friends 
to the immediate and direct act of beins: converted ? 

I wish you to ponder that question soberly ; for we do 
not wish to put ourselves to unnecessary trouble ; in a 
world where there is so much to accomplish, we do not 
wish to waste time or strength in chasing shadows. If 
conversion, and some tolerable or only indistinct evidence 
of conversion, is all we can attain unto, well ; that is a 
most inestimable gift ; with hearts of devoutest gratitude, 
let us bless God, if there were held out to us only the re- 



284 THE HIGHER STATE. 

motest possibility and feeblest chance for salvation. But if 
there is more than that, let us beware of despising or ne- 
glecting it. 

I believe that it is attainable ; attainable by every Christ- 
ian ; as really as pardon through Christ is attainable by 
every sinner. For do but consider the mode in which the 
Apostle speaks of it, as the proper aim of all the members 
of the church at Ephesns ; as what they were to ask for, as 
for their daily bread. The promises, too, are of that free 
and generous nature, so to speak, which indicate a willing- 
ness on the part of God to make these rich gifts free as the 
air of heaven. 

But how are they to be obtained ? How can I make what 
is described in the text, my own ? Surely under the same 
conditions involved in the gift of all spiritual blessings. 
A mere idle wish gets nothing from God. As well look up 
to the moon walking in brightness, and hope that a wish 
may detach it from the iron grasp of gravitation, and let it 
fall at your feet for a plaything, as that an idle wish for the 
rich gifts mentioned in the text will bring them down from 
heaven. 

The conditions on which all spiritual blessings are be- 
stowed seem to be these : that we desire them supremely. 
Being in themselves of inestimable value, any state of mind 
which does not so regard them, does in fact contemptuously 
undervalue them. To such minds the gift would be 
like casting pearls before swine, which God would not do, 
as he has peremptorily forbidden us so to do. Seekjlrst of 
all the kingdom of God and his righteousness, is the rule 
and condition of the divine distribution. Whoever, there- 
fore, expects to receive, must offer in sincerity prayer like 
this : " I come to thee, O God ! for a gift of inestimable 
value ; if before me were placed a store-house of thy gifts, 



THE HIGHER STATE. 285 

and among them some of the most splendid of earth's 
prizes, and from them all I were allowed to select one, any 
one I chose, but only one, I would select this ; a heart thus 
nobly sanctified." That kind of desire will be satisfied. 

But a second condition is, that we desire spiritual bless- 
ing actively, that, so far as any agency of ours is requisite, 
it be exerted energetically. God rarely bestows gifts ex- 
cept he enlists our agency in the work. But that agency 
involves something difficult or disagreeable. Conversion, 
for instance, may demand that the sinner, by his own act, 
tear himself from his evil associates, or abandon his evil 
habits, which act as hindrances to his conversion. The 
cross and the effort are sometimes fearfully appalling, and 
the sinner will not put forth the effort to uproot these ob- 
stacles. Of course he can not be converted. He may cry 
mightily unto God, but God, who might work a miracle to 
do what men can not do, will never work a miracle to do 
man's work for him. God would by his own mighty agen- 
cy roll back and pile up the waters of the Red Sea ; that 
being done, the Israelites must use their own agency and 
walk over ; he would do no miracle to help them walk. 

Do you want a far better heart than you now have ? 
That also you may have. There are means provided in the 
Gospel for it. But the attainment involves your own 
agency ; there are hindrances which you can remove. Ton 
may have formed habits that pamper the animal appetites, 
like the use of a certain loathsome weed. Now the flesh and 
the spirit are contrary the one to the other. If you want 
the heart to be made more pure and spiritual, then you 
must of course put away the habits which make the heart 
more earthly and sensual. Your earnest desire for the 
spirit will effect nothing unless your agency abandon what 
is contrary to the spirit. If there is aught in one's business, 

1e &• 



286 THE HIGHER STATE. 

one's associates, one's reading, one's mode of living, con- 
trary to the will of God, one's own agency and will must 
come out to the desperate conflict with these sins. Then 
will the way be open for (rod's access to the soul. 

A third condition is, that we desire them perseveringly. 
It is not unfrequent, that the mind under some pressure of 
excitement, utters an explosive cry for a better heart ; and 
will also for the moment exert a paroxysm of agency. But 
the spasm perhaps leaves the soul more weak, as con- 
vulsions only debilitate the patient. Man would by one 
great effort clutch the gift, and then sit down and indolently 
enjoy it. But it is evidently the plan of God to test the 
strength of human desires and faith by delay. Four thou- 
sand years passed, after the first prediction of Christ, ere 
Christ appeared. Hundreds of years elapsed ere the prom- 
ises to Abraham were fulfilled. A church sometimes 
will cry months and years for a revival of religion, before 
the blessing is granted. It is easy to see that such delay, 
calling out renewed intensity of supplication, fixing the 
earnest thought of the mind on the end sought, and forcing 
on the supplicant the deep and reiterated conviction of his 
own dependence, must unfold to him more and more of the 
infinite value of the gift, and prepare him to receive it 
with humility and gratitude. 

We are then prepared to answer the question stated a 
few moments since : How shall we obtain the blessings 
mentioned in the text ? Desire them supremely, actively, 
perseveringly. Such supreme desire is difficult. .You live 
and habitually associate in a world where you and other 
men are measured and valued by far other standards than 
nobleness of heart. A heavy purse will give almost any 
man weight in the community. Political power will bring 
a crowd of worshippers at one's feet, ready to lick up the 



THE HIGDER STATE. 287 

very dust under them. Well a man knows that in banks, 
in Wall street, in all companies, the question, What is he 
worth ? will be asked about him. Even if thej ask whether 
he is an honest man, a man of stern principle, it is not be- 
cause they value the beauty of goodness, but because his 
honesty and principle make him more competent to be 
trusted with money, or more likely to be a good assistant in 
making money. Even goodness has its money-value, just 
as a slave's religion is valued because it makes him a more 
reliable slave. 

Unconsciously, therefore, men come to value most highly 
that which will measure their value in the world. Hence 
the state of their minds will be evolved in some such pur- 
poses as these : I should like a good heart, but I am re- 
solved that Twill be worth §30,000. I want a holy heart, 
but I am determined to get business, or have an office: 
Some things he wants, others he will have. 

Now it is hard to rise above such a tremendous press- 
ure of influences, to value most highly what most men 
sneer at ; which will not lift him up in the world, but will 
often stand in the way of his advancement. It requires a 
steadiness of thought, a superiority to outward glare and 
seeming, which few minds have. So, very many never in«- 
tend to have principle enough to hurt their own interests ; 
they mean to have just that amount of goodness and trust- 
worthiness which is of the best market value. 

But no one need expect the blessings of the text unless he 
can say from the heart : " I would rather have it than 
money ; I would rather have it than power ; I would rather 
have it than all earthly gifts. Whatever is necessary to 
attain it, I will do. Whatever stands in the way, I will give 
up." 



283 HARMONY" OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 



XX. 
IIAKMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 

"I delight to do thy will, my God ; yea, thy law is within my heart." — 
Psalm 40 : 8. 

It is not ray design, at the present time, to enter upon 
any discussion of man's free agency. I wish, as a necessary 
introduction to the main object I have in view, to advert 
to a fact in relation to the development or exercise of hu- 
man agency, of which all persons must have been con- 
scious, whatever may be their theoretical views. 

1. Sometimes our agency is exerted with great effort and 
struggle. We act, and act it may be rightly, but it is only 
after a severe struggle, in which we are conscious of put- 
ting a sort of constraint upon ourselves. This, both in 
common language and in the Bible, is styled fighting, over- 
coming one's self. In other cases we act easily, without 
effort or constraint ; the choice or volition is put forth with- 
out any effort at all, just as we breathe, waking or sleeping, 
easily and without thinking of it. 

The exemplifications are obvious and convincing. Ask 
one man to sign the temperance pledge, and he will hesi- 
tate ; there will be a long struggle between appetite or 
pride on one side, and duty or safety on the other ; and if 
he does the act, it is with a sort of desperate, agonizing 
effort. Another, as soon as the facts and reasons of the 
case are before him, acts easily, spontaneously, conscious of 



HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 289 

nothing but a delightful acquiescence in truth and duty. 
One reaches the point like a strong but wayward horse, 
plunging hither and thither, and ploughing his way with a 
heavy load, through deep mud, and over roots and rocks ; 
the other glides as easily, swiftly, and noiselessly to the same 
point, as electricity flies along the wires, motion being its 
nature and enjoyment. 

One boy, before he can apply himself to study, must re- 
solve and re-resolve, and struggle with his inclinations, and 
weep perhaps over his bad tendencies and broken resolu- 
tions, and sometimes with violence chain and force his 
mind to study. Another boy spontaneously and gladly 
applies himself to study, his will and mind moving toward 
and among his books, as the strong-winged bird moves ex- 
ultingly, and almost without effort, upward through the air. 

Analogous facts are seen in bad deeds. One young 
man will go down in a career of iniquity only by severe 
struggles with conscience ; at one time over-persuaded to 
enter scenes of gambling and vice, and then suffering bitter 
pangs, and making strong resolutions ; again fighting off 
conscience, as if it were a fiend, and plunging desperately 
into sin, like a furious, baited animal, closing its eyes, and 
rushing blindly upon its enemies. He takes the downward 
road, as a hostile army seizes a city, after crossing ditches, 
battering down walls, and overcoming formidable obstacles. 
Another one seems to choose and practise iniquity as spon- 
taneously as the owl flees into darkness, without resistance 
or struggle against better tendencies. 

Now, in all these cases, the mind acts and chooses ; but 
there is certainly a plain and instructive difference in the 
development of this agency. 

2. To some extent one can see the same diversity in the 
religious developments of men, and perhaps the same mind, 



290 HARMONY* OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 

in different stages of its progress, is conscious of having had 
in its own experience instructive instances of this diversity. 
In prayer, for instance, one person knows and acknowledges 
the duty and benefit of prayer, and probably often does 
pray ; but he is conscious frequently of a struggle, that he 
has to bring himself to the act of prayer, by stirring up his 
conscience with reflections on the guilt of neglect, and per- 
haps even has to make the will take the place of motive, and 
resolves that he will pray, though he has no taste for it, nor 
pleasure in it. His path of duty may be compared to 
that of a conscientious devotee, doing a wearisome penance. 
Another mind applies itself to prayer sweetly, naturally, 
spontaneously ; there is no effort at all in the act ; but a 
strong effort would be necessary to resist the mind's ten- 
dency toward prayer. One mind is bent toward prayer, as 
the oak may be moved or bent down by some fierce and 
overpowering hurricane, absolutely forcing it to stoop ; the 
other bends as easily as the rising vapor is swayed by the 
gentlest breath ; or rather, of its own will loves to pray. 

One mind will feel itself in some way wronged or pro- 
voked, and begins to perceive within itself the risings of 
passion. Sensible of the sin of anger or resentment, it be- 
gins to perform the duty of repressing the unholy emotion, 
and substituting in the bosom love and forgiveness for rage 
and dislike. But it finds the task hard ; passion seems to 
spring up and explode in the heart, as naturally as powder 
at the touch of fire, and it would seem as difficult to keep 
it down, as by mere pressure of the hand to keep down a 
bursting steam-boiler. The mind is conscious of a terrible 
struggle ; there is agony in it, and even the body and the 
health are sometimes affected by the severity of the internal 
battle. Perhaps the effort is successful, and the man out- 
wardly is calm, while the boiling passions are raging and 



HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 291 

slowly dying within, just as a volcanic mountain may be 
filled with boiling, red-hot lava, while the outward crust is 
motionless, or even covered with snow. Or it may be that 
the struggle is but partially successful, and jets of passion 
will force themselves through the weight of will and con- 
science laid on them, as breathing-holes to the fiery furnace 
within. 

Another mind, in like circumstances of wrong, will 
breathe out patience, love, and forgiveness, as sweetly and 
spontaneously as the calm sunlight of God continues to shine 
out upon the scenes of violence, shame, and crime it meets 
in its daily course. There is no effort at forgiveness ; no strug- 
gle with passion, pride, and revenge ; these die or have died 
in the soul, just as there are said to be some climates so 
pure, that poisonous serpents and reptiles can not live in 
them. The soul moves on in its course of love and duty 
through wrong and insult, as an angel of mercy walks over 
a battle-field, lovingly and helpfully, though blood, rage, 
and carnage make that battle-field a hell. 

Again, another mind finds the path of duty generally a 
somewhat stern and forbidding one. He means to take it, 
and walk in it, and perhaps does travel on quite sturdily. 
But he feels himself hedged in by the grim sentinels which 
conscience stations all along the path, and which threaten 
to lash and torment him, if he does not go straight on. 
Sometimes he pauses, and sees much pleasanter paths wind- 
ing among beautiful fields, and crowded with laughter-lov- 
ing and joyous pilgrims, who ridicule him for walking in 
such a rough, disagreeable road, when he might enjoy him- 
self so much better with them, till he begins to wish to 
jump over the wall, and get away. But the guardian of 
the way, stern, uncompromising conscience, looks so threat- 
eningly upon him, that he does not dare to turn aside, and 



292 HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 

so, on he walks, with the desperate resolution of one who 
has broken away from a great obstacle. 

Another walks on cheerfully and swiftly in the path of 
duty, and is hardly conscious of making any resolution to 
do so, like a sea-bird, which one meets hundreds of miles 
from the land, still gayly and tirelessly on the wing, as if 
motion onward were a delight, not a task. He is not look- 
ing around to find a way out of the narrow path, nor watch- 
ing the grim sentinels which guard the way ; but his eye 
turns upward toward that bright world to which he is hasten- 
ing, and he is sweetly drawn thitherward, as the iron flies 
toward the magnet. The path of duty he spontaneously 
and without effort takes, because it is a straight path, the 
straightest and nearest way to the glorious end and termi- 
nation of all for which he aspires. 

Of some such facts as these, I presume, we have all been 
conscious, or at least w T e can not fail to have observed phe- 
nomena somewhat similar. To use language not meta- 
physically accurate, it may be, but in substance true : the 
will sometimes moves resistlessly yet noiselessly, as if self- 
moved, like perfect machinery in complete order, and skill- 
fully wrought out to the least possible friction; and again, 
the will works on with great turmoil and difficulty, like a 
clumsily-built machine, which almost tears itself in pieces 
as it is driven ou, while the ill-adjusted parts grind and 
bruise each other. 

3. I think it must be evident to every mind, that that 
form of religious development in which the mind acts thus 
spontaneously and delightedly, is much the highest and 'most 
desirable form. True, he who will do his duty in obedience 
to his conscience, though there are enemies within as well 
as without, is worthy of all honor. It is a noble sight to 
see a soul struggling with itself, and determined to kill its 



HARMONY OF THE DtVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 293 

4 

own wicked passions, though in doing so, there is all the 
anguish and more than the fortitude of killing one's own 
body. We rejoice to see a soul in the way to heaven, 
though he is heavily toiling on, and is sometimes only kept 
away from the snares of the devil, placed enticingly before 
him, by the threats and even lashes of conscience. John 
Bunyan's Pilgrim, toiling under his heavy load, and tum- 
bling into the slough of despond, and weeping as he goes, is 
a sight on which God and angels look down with sympa- 
thizing interest. To all such, a voice divine cries out : * Go 
on ; fight on ; for ye shall come off conquerors, and more 
than conquerors.' In every such soul, there are the germs 
of the divine nature implanted, and these very throes and 
struggles are the internal powers of this divine seed, ex- 
panding and strengthening themselves. 

But there is a higher form of religious development, in 
which the mind, not by efforts and impulses, not by con- 
straint and resolution to which it must be braced and goad- 
ed after long and agonizing conflicts, acts for God ; but in 
which the soul, its nature truly partaking of the divine na- 
ture, according to the promise, acts with a freedom and 
spontaneity akin to that of God ; conscious of no struggle, 
but sweetly following its own tendencies when it feels and 
acts aright. 

Suppose one could say : " All my soul's movements and 
actions are now in God, under the dominion of his will, 
and entirely in union with him ; my will is firmly estab- 
lished in one direction." " Neither desiring to know any 
thing, nor desiring to do any thing, except the thing to 
which God calls it." " There is a constant ready obedience 
to every discovery of his will even in the minutest things, 
and with such a suppleness or flexibility of mind as not to 
adhere to any thing, but to turn and move in any and 



291 HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 

every direction whenever God shall call. Mj soul seems 
like a leaf or a feather, which the wind moves in any way 
that it pleases." "I was not conscious of having any will 
but God's will." " The soul is so submissive, that it is dis- 
posed equally to receive from the hand of God either good 
or evil." "I have no desire that my imprisonment should 
end before the right time. I love my chains. Every thing 
is equal to me, as I have no will of my own, but purely 
the love and will of him who possesses me. It is no more 
I that live, but Jesus Christ that liveth in me." 

In a dreary dungeon, hated and calumniated, the same 
mind could exclaim : 

" A hunted bird I am, 

Shut from the fields of air ; 
And in my cage I sit and sing 

To Him who placed me there. 
Well pleased a prisoner to be, 
Because, my God, it pleases thee. 

" Oh ! it is good to soar 

These bolts and bars above, 
To Him whose purpose I adore 

Whose providence I love. 
And in thy mighty will to find 
The joy, the freedom of the mind."* 

It is plain, I think, that this form of religious development 
is far nobler and more beautiful than the other ; as the 
prodigal son, re-clothed and happy in his father's assured 
favor, was more beautiful than that same son covered with 
the tatters and spots of his former beggary and swine-tend- 
ing, creeping home, sad, timid, and smitten of God. It is 

* Madame Guyon. 



HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 295 

a development akin to that of angels, who, prompt as 
thought, quick as light, and strong with eternal might, 
bend and fly to do God's will. 

It is surely, then, most desirable. For it is evident that 
a mind'in that state must have sources of enjoyment of the 
same nature with those of the infinite mind of God. For 
God is not a mere mass of mind, filling immensity, as a sort 
of petrified, all-pervading intellect, but a being who feels 
and enjoys, and is infinitely blessed, because his will is in- 
finitely good. The identification of our will with his, 
therefore, must bring us to the same fathomless fountains of 

joy. 

Now no one wishes to remain in a state of doubt and 
wretchedness, considered in and of itself. He may indeed, 
by his own agency, accumulate and perpetuate suffering 
upon himself ; but he has other motives than the suffering. 
It comes in, not as the end to be secured, but as incidental 
to some aim he wishes to reach. An internal religious de- 
velopment, then, like that here described, must have charms 
unutterable for a mind ever touched by the Spirit of God ; 
and he must wish to bring himself, diseased, enfeebled, and 
struggling as he is, to the Great Physician, who can make 
him whole. 

But can it be ? Does it involve miracle or not? Is the 
attempt tinctured with fanaticism or not ? Does the Gos- 
pel encourage us to ask for it or not ? 

4. Let us look a,t the nature of the state we have been 
considering, and see how far these questions can be an- 
swered thereby. You will perceive that the distinguishing 
element in this condition of the soul, is the harmony of the 
human will with the divine will. We may distinguish, I 
think, three states of the human will in its relation to the 
divine : a struggling will, a submissive will, a harmonious 



296 HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 

will. A struggling will is the one to which I have al- 
ready alluded, the agent being conscious of the right and 
loving it, and yet conscious too of passions and habits en- 
gendered by a past life of sin, driving him on to transgress. 
When he would do good, evil is present with hint. Then 
of course he is conscious of a struggle when these two 
opposing elements meet within him, as when streams of 
fire and water meet, there must be commotion. The will 
fights, if you will allow me to carry out the figure, and 
sometimes conquers, and sometimes, half-afraid and half- 
discouraged, yields. 

Again, there is a submissive will : it has fought, it has 
gained the victory. Covered with the scars, wounds, and 
grim visage of battle, it comes to lay itself down at the 
feet of God, a living sacrifice. But it comes sad ; comes 
with much pain ; comes, it may be, with some desponding 
reflections on its own hard case, though devoutly feeling 
that God is right in making his case hard, for he deserves 
it ; comes with mournful anticipations of conflicts still to 
come, conflicts which are perhaps to end in defeat. 

Then there is the harmonious will. The mind in the 
fullest sense has ceased to have any will of its own, because 
it has adopted God's will as its own. This is what is meant 
by that remarkable Scriptural expression, " God in us ;" 
the mind so sweetly and so promptly adjusting itself to the 
known will of God, that it is hardly conscious of any inter- 
mediate acts of deliberation and resolution. As you have 
sometimes seen a plant condemned to pass the winter in a 
cellar, turn itself lovingly toward the window where light 
comes in ; so this harmonious will turns not by effort but 
instinctively, as it were, toward God. Or, as w r hen one of 
old was assailed with a storm of threats and rage, while he 
stood alone in the midst of his enemies like a lamb among 



HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL, 297 

wolves, calmly lie stood and said : " I am not afraid to die, 
but I am afraid to do wrong." 

Thus it will be seen that this form of religious develop- 
ment is exceeding simple, being the harmony of the human 
with the divine will. It is therefore a state of mind or 
condition of the soul, entirely different from mere emotion. 
Indeed, emotion will generally attend the earlier and strug- 
gling stages of one's religious progress, rather than the 
higher and maturer position of the soul. When one first 
emerges into the light, there may be strong emotion. When 
one, after a severe struggle, has overcome a temptation, 
there will be almost necessarily strong emotion. But this 
harmony of the human will with the divine, effected with- 
out resistance, is full of peace and joy, and will be rather 
placid and calm than attended with much emotion. 

I make this remark the rather, because in the minds of 
so many persons the idea of a higher state of religious de- 
velopment is uniformly associated with intense emotion, 
and the higher the religious state, the more keen and in- 
tense the feelings or emotions. Hence is felt an inherent 
difficulty, if not absolute impossibility, without a miracle, 
of attaining and preserving a high state of religious devel- 
opment. On the contrary, the higher the state, the less of 
mere emotion, the more pure and calm the peacefulness of 
the soul ; just as on the highest mountains one is entirely 
above the storms and commotions which agitate the whole 
atmosphere below. 

This view of the simple nature of the result to be reach- 
ed, may show us its attainability. When the whole revela- 
tion, influence, and atonement of God has this express ob- 
ject, the harmony of my will with the divine, is it extrava- 
gant or presumptuous in me to ask that my will may he in 
fact in harmony with his ? Why did Christ come ? Why 



298 HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 

does the Holy Spirit strive ? To bring our wills into har- 
mony with God's. Are we then free agents, with all the 
aid and influence of Omnipotence to help us, to abandon all 
hope that our wills shall be brought sweetly and habitually 
into unison with the divine ? 

It has been my aim thus to bring out some views of a 
high and beautiful form of religious development, though 
I seem, to myself, to have spoken of it in those stammering 
and imperfect accents in which a child tries to express con- 
ceptions almost too high for his little intellect. But if I 
have succeeded at all in conveying the idea as I wish, then 
let me beg each one to make a personal application to him- 
self of the truth here illustrated. Let every one distinctly 
ask himself, Have I reached this stage of religious develop- 
ment? Probably the reply would be: ' I have frequent 
struggles to subdue my rebellious will, sometimes, or often, 
I do truly submit my will to the divine, though in conflict 
and sadness ; but I can not say that my will habitually ancf 
spontaneously adjusts itself to the will of God almost with- 
out effort or conflict' 

Then put another question to your conscience : Have 
you ever distinctly aimed at it, as a practicable stage 
of religious progress ? prayed and labored for it, as one of 
the blessings which Christ can give, and for the communi- 
cation of which there are ample means and provisions in 
the Gospel? Probably not, and here lies the reason of 
your failure. But we must remember that God, in all his 
proceedings, acts according to law. There are physical 
laws, moral laws, and what, for the sake of distinction, I 
may call spiritual laws. Now if we expect to attain any 
particular end, we must act, and ask God to act, only in 
accordance with those laws. 

Thus, for instance, I have an acre of ground to cultivate. 



HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 299 

There are certain capabilities of production in that soil) 
which capabilities are to be developed by intelligent appli- 
cation of labor and materials in accordance with these 
laws. It is evident I may have low and mistaken views of 
the natural capabilities of that soil, and not therefore use 
means to draw out all that the acre might produce; or, 
though I may theoretically be right in regard to the great 
capabilities of the soil, I may not be willing to use all the 
means and materials for developing them. It is evident 
that, if the highest point of production of which that land 
is capable be ever reached, I must know what that capabil- 
ity is, I must aim at it, and reach it, if reached at all, 
through or by the laws of nature applicable to such matters. 

In like manner, there is the soul of man, with certain 
capabilities and with certain spiritual laws, as to the mode 
and agencies by which they may be developed. It is plain 
then that in order to reach the highest attainable stage of 
progress, there must be an intelligent perception of those 
facts, the high aim and the pursuit of that aim, in accord- 
ance with the laws and agencies established by God. 

We are brought back then to the question stated a mo- 
ment since. Have you ever distinctly aimed at this stage 
of religious progress of which we have treated? have you 
labored for it as one of the blessings which Christ came to 
impart, and for the development of which ample means are 
provided in the Gospel? and have you made progress 
thereto? Probably not. Probably one conscience would 
answer, I have not ; and another, I have not. 

If so, then this place ought to be a Bochim — a place of 
weeping. For consider how Christ might address us : "I 
gave you a soul capable of being adorned with all Christ- 
ian graces ; capable of growing and expanding into nearer 
approximation to harmony with the divine will ; purified 



300 HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. 

into something worthy of my own divine complacency : but 
yon have kept it deformed and stained with worldliness. 
I have provided agencies and means for the express pur- 
pose of enabling you to make constant progress toward the 
highest developments of religion ; you have neglected them, 
or used them but carelessly or heartlessly, and have kept 
yourself to a sad degree under the dominion of sin, thereby 
grieving the Spirit, dishonoring me, and showing disbelief 
of my promises. To a great degree, therefore, the sins still 
upon you, you have retained and cherished, for many of 
them would have been exterminated, or almost deprived of 
vitality, had you steadfastly made that progress toward holi- 
ness which I reasonably demanded." 

Thus might Christ rebuke us, and he might justly add : 
" I will help you no more. I will leave you to that posi- 
tion of half-servitude to sin which you have chosen ; and 
will never cause any more light or holiness to beam in upon 
your minds than you now have." 

Should not our hearts respond, " Truth, Lord, half-dead 
and unfruitful have we been ; but, ashamed and confound- 
ed, we come to thee for mercy" ? Can we add, " Lord, the 
day of our slothfulness is over, our heart is fixed, our aim 
is to be the entire harmony of our wills with thine. Reach 
forth thy hand, thou Saviour of men, for our help ; for in 
thy almighty strength we shall go on conquering, until our 
souls rest in victory, and our will is entirely subdued to 
thine" ? Can we add that ? 

We have heard much said of the transforming power of 
the Gospel, how it can turn the tiger into the lamb, and . 
make the whole life of man beautiful with goodness. Are 
these mere words? something to declaim about in the pul- 
pit or the prayer-meeting ? Or is this a reality and a real 
power? Let us then prove it. Let us each bring our 

U 



HARMONY OF THE DIVINE AND HUMAN WILL. oOl 

hearts to God, to have the experiment of the Gospel, so to 
speak, fairly tried upon them, each saying : " Here, Lord, 
take this heart and test in it the transforming power of the 
Gospel ; take its passions and evil habits, and crucify them ; 
take my sins, and, if need be, burn them away in the hot 
and terrible furnace of affliction ; mould and turn my will, 
till it take the form and image of thy will ; thus work till 
' I dwell in God and God in me.' " 

Is a true, living, growing Christian character a state in 
which are evident a life and power above the life of selfish- 
ness, a pretense, a sham, a romance ? Some say it is, 
that they believe nothing in it. Is it so ? Then let us play 
the hypocrite no longer, give up our profession, and save all 
the trouble and expense of our churches, prayers, and out- 
ward observances, and be openly wicked, and not wicked 
with a mere outward pretense of goodness. 

But if it is not so — if there be such a thing as beautiful 
and growing conformity to God, let us seek and find it, nor 
rest till its reality is ours. Then, 

" Unspotted by its wrong and crime, 
We walk the dark earth through ; 
The lust of power, the love of gain, 

The thousand lures of sin 
Around us, have no power to stain 
The purity within." 

16 



802 ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 



XXI. 

ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 

" Let us draw near with a true heart, in fall assurance of faith." — Heb. 10 : 22. 

The state of mind described in the text, has been often 
regarded with incredulity and strong prejudice. The rea- 
son, no doubt, must be found in the arrogance, self-conceit, 
and evident self-delusion, manifest in some of those who 
have claimed to have the full assurance of faith. The an- 
cient Jew, for example, was possessed with the most un- 
doubting confidence that he was God's favorite child, and 
never dreamed of the possibility that he, a Jew, could be 
lost. But he could, at the same time, treat his brother-man, 
the Gentile and Samaritan, with insulting scorn, and in- 
dulge himself in detestable iniquities. We probably have 
seen men quite ready and boastful in their expressions of 
assurance, who were, to say the least, no better than their 
neighbors, if not a good deal looser in their principles and 
practice. Hence has arisen, in some minds, a prejudice 
against that state of mind called the assurance of faith, as 
one of the evidences of delusion. 

But perhaps misconceptions of its nature have also had 
some influence in originating, if not prejudice, yet a back- 
wardness or hopelessness in all attempts to reach it. There 
is a vague apprehension that genuine assurance is either 
miraculous, or so nearly bordering on the miraculous, as a 



ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 303 

special gift of God, that ordinary Christians, as a general 
thing, are not to be favored with it, but, like supernatural 
gifts, bestowed on the apostles, it is intentionally reserved 
by God for a few. Of course, with this view there will be 
little hope and less effort for its actual attainment. 

Point to those who have towered upward in all the power 
and grandeur of the full assurance of faith, and men feel 
that they are only the few mountain-peaks which rise up 
toward heaven, while the great mass of the Christian world 
must ever welter below in doubt, feebleness, and gloom. 

The few right noble men of strong faith, who meet us in 
life, are like flowers, which spring fresh and beautiful, as if 
fed by unseen fountains, in the midst of the weeds and 
thorns of a vast, rugged desert. 

We shall consider, 

1. The nature of that state of mind, termed the full as- 
surance of faith. Probably to some minds is suggested by 
the very mention of the term a rather vague idea of some- 
thing forced, a state of mind quite unnatural, which it is to 
reach by exhausting and convulsive efforts, and in which 
it is to be retained by dint of incessant excitement. They 
imagine perhaps something akin to that prophetic ecstasy, 
when the body was overpowered by the working of the 
mysterious agencies within ; or like the boiling and strug- 
gling waters, heated into steam and fury, by the intense 
furnace-fires beneath. It is not strange, therefore, that it 
should not be very earnestly coveted ; nay, that it should 
be secretly rather dreaded, as involving perhaps as much 
trouble and discomfort as joy. 

The true idea of it would be widely different, and could 
not perhaps be better conveyed than by a reference to a 
well-known state of mind : the confiding, filial approach, 
for instance, of a child to a parent. When the son enters 



304 ASSUKANCE OF FAITH. 

his mother's house, there is entire simplicity and intelli- 
gibleness in his perfect assurance of faith in her love and in 
his welcome there. It is not a stormy, anxious, elaborate, 
or complicated state of mind, but one simple, natural, and 
pleasant. Nay, it is so fixed and true an idea, that he does 
not state and prove it to his own mind. So far as his in- 
terests depend on her, he knows that all is safe ; and when 
at any time he thinks of his mother, the full and pleasant 
consciousness of full assurance in her love intermingles it- 
self with every thought or plan or visit in which she is 
concerned, as this light sweetly touches, illumines, and 
colors every object it falls upon. 

This full assurance in parental love is a simple, intelli- 
gible state ; it involves nothing forced, unnatural, stormy. 
It neither originates in a storm nor is kept up by convuls- 
ive appliances. It is the natural, healthful, and happy 
action of the child's soul, in that relation of a child. Now, 
that feeling, transferred to God, is the full assurance of 
faith ; this confiding trust in his love, growing out of the 
mutual love between him and us. It is no less intelligible 
and practicable to the child than the philosopher ; nay, 
more so, for while the man would be entangling himself 
with all manner of metaphysical questions and dark sub- 
tleties about it, the child would at once love and trust. 

This state is thus described in the life of John Cotton, 
first minister of Boston, one of the old Puritans : " On that 
day, he received the assurance of God's love unto his own 
soul, by the Spirit of God effectually applying his promise of 
eternal grace and life unto him, which happily kept with 
him all the rest of his days." Of John Eliot it is said : 
" He walked in the light of God's countenance all the day 
long. He had a continual assurance of the divine love for 
many lustres of years before he died. He seemed loth to 



ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 305 

have any will of his own that should not be wholly melted 
and moulded into the will of God." 

Let us consider, 

2. The desirableness of the full assurance of faith. It is 
desirable on precisely the same ground that one always 
finds joy and support in loving and confiding hearts. Even 
one's ordinary business has so much in it vexatious and try- 
ing, brings one so often into collision, rivalship, and strife 
with other men, that one retreats gladly to his home, where 
he is sure to find affectionate and sympathizing minds. 
Mutual love and confidence there sweeten his temper and 
refresh his strength, so that he passes through life happier 
and manlier, because of the full assurance of faith in the 
attachment of a few minds at least. Much more delightful 
is this assurance in case of peculiar difficulty ; when one 
has to struggle hard in a crafty > hardened, and selfish world, 
even for a bare subsistence ; or to ward off impending bank- 
ruptcy ; to avert the consequences of hostile attacks, or to 
meet the collision of wicked men's interests and passions. 
The soul alone and friendless in such circumstances, is like 
an unarmed man, exposed without shelter, to a storm of 
bombs and shot. But if he has a home, where congenial 
and loving hearts meet him, binding up his wounds, cheer- 
ing with kind words, sympathizing in his noble aims, he 
can gird himself with daily-renewed vigor for the conflict. 

Much more desirable then is the friendship of God. 
When one stands beneath heaven's dome, on a bright, star- 
lit night, and looks up to those countless worlds, moving in 
solemn grandeur in their vast orbits, placed and moved 
there by the infinite God ; or when stern, giant clouds, 
march in sullen grandeur through the skies, occasionally 
sending out voices and thunderings and lightnings from 
their ranks ; what unutterable rapture in the assured faith, 



306 ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 

"My Father made them all"! Sometimes, when the earth 
is almost rocking with the storm, and heaven's thunder- 
bolts, able to blast and consume the verj T rocks like tinder 
are falling around one's dwelling, what serene and even 
exulting joy in the thought, " My Friend and Father con- 
trols and aims all these fierce elements ;" when perhaps 
guilty and coward-minds are quailing and trembling, like 
culprits before the judgment-seat! When one prays how 
delightful to know that the Lord God Almighty listens with 
all the sympathizing interest of a father ! Then can one 
hasten to the mercy-seat, and pray with gladness and de- 
votion, akin to the rapturous worship of cherubim. Such 
prayer, how different from the abject, cowering spirit with 
which some prayer is offered, or the dark, doubting, servile 
temper in which some are dragged up to the duty of 
prayer ! 

When earth's calamities, sorrows, conflicts, and disap- 
pointments, ofttimes most bitter and tormenting, tend to 
sour and exasperate the soul, how refreshing and purifying 
to ascend like Moses into the mount of God, and from that 
secret tabernacle, where Grod receives his children, look out 
on the dark waves and troubles of life, breaking harmlessly 
far below us ! In the dread hour of death, around which 
gather so many dark clouds of fear and despair, an hour 
which tortures so many hearts, the full assurance of faith 
triumphantly exclaims, " There is laid up for me a crown 
of righteousness," and gladly opens the door to the tomb, 
knowing that on the other side of it stands his Father 
and his Grod, to embrace and welcome his child to his 
heavenly home. 

O Christian ! do you wish to go through life by a path 
which is always overcast by a dark cloud, raining con- 
stant tears on your way? Would it not be far better to 



ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 807 

look up to an Almighty Friend, and cry unto him that he 
may receive you to the arms of his love? Is it not desira- 
ble ? is it not more precious than rubies ? and all the things 
thou canst desire, can they be compared to it ? Yes, no 
doubt it is, some may think, it is desirable, just as many 
other things are ; just as it is desirable to have a splendid 
genius, or royal power, or a mine of diamonds, but which 
we are never to have, and which we shall therefore waste no 
time in wishing and striving for. 

I will therefore inquire into, 

3. The attainableness of the full assurance of faith. 
There was imparted to the apostles, and to some of the 
primitive Christians, the power of working miracles. Now 
it seems desirable on some accounts, in certain cases, that 
we or some men should possess the power of performing 
miracles. If there were some persons who could be raised 
from the dead, and some who could be restored to health, 
great good in our view would be accomplished. But we 
have ceased to expect it, we do not pray for it, God may 
have designed such power only for a few, and for a certain 
time. But is this full assurance of faith to be placed in the 
same position ? If so, -then we should dismiss it at once, 
and not even wish it or pray for it. 

On the other hand there are other things which God de- 
signed for all, provided for all, made attainable by all, and 
gave to all means and encouragements for securing. In 
this class is personal salvation. Forgiveness and eternal 
life through Christ are offered freely to each and all of 
mankind. The preacher is authorized to say to each indi- 
vidual: "God has provided salvation for you' he wishes 
you to be saved ; if not saved, the blame will rest with you. 

In this class may be placed the assurance of faith / as 
truly designed for all and practicable for all. I argue this 



308 ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 

from the basis on which such assurance is said to rest. 
Thus in the text : u Having a high priest over the house of 
God, let us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of 
faith." On what ground am I exhorted to draw near with 
assurance ? On the ground that we have a high priest 
over the house of God. The fact is no more applicable to 
one than to another ; to Paul than to you or me. If pro- 
clamation should be made to a starving people, " Come ye 
to the store-houses, for here is plenty of food" the basis or 
reason of the invitation, being the simple fact that there 
was ample food, would of course apply to each and all ; 
and each and all would thereby be authorized to come and 
expect food. So God invites all to draw near with the full 
assurance of faith. Why ? on what ground ? Because 
there is a High Priest there ; in other words an Interces- 
sor and Advocate, a fact applicable to each and all. 

Of the same nature is another passage : " Let us come 
boldly (confidently, with assurance) to the throne of grace." 
Why ? for what reason ? " For we have a high priest who 
is touched with the feeling of our infirmities," (Heb. 4 : 15> 
16,) still resting the assurance on the same broad plat- 
form and encouragement, alike designed for all. So also 
Paul wrote to the Ephesians (3 : 12) : " In Jesus Christ 
we have boldness and access with confidence by the faith 
of him." There is the same breadth, comprehensiveness, 
and universality then to the attainment of the full assur- 
ance of faith that there is to the availability of Christ's 
death and intercession. 

Moreover, the exhortations to assurance are universal, 
like those to any other acknowledged duty. "Give dili- 
gence to make your calling and election sure." (2 Peter 
1 : 10.) The exhortation is addressed to all, and the cer- 
tainty is to be the result of diligence, a thing certainly 



ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 309 

required of all and possible to all. Of a like explicit nature 
is the charge : " We desire that every one of you do show 
the same diligence to the full assurance of hope unto the 
end." (Heb. 6 : 11.) 

One can hardly see how it could be more clearly set 
forth, that this delightful privilege is not reserved for a 
favored few, in some peculiarly favorable circumstances, or 
especially vouchsafed by God to a few selected ones ; but 
is the sober duty and rightful privilege of all Christians. 

Let us inquire, 

4. What then are the reasons of failure f For as matter 
of fact, this assurance of faith is so rare, that those who have 
it, are considered either as miracles of grace or as grossly 
self-deceived and fanatical. Why is it so ? My own firm be - 
lief is, that it is to be attributed to the sad and startling 
fact, that the mass of professed Christians seem to have 
lost the idea of spiritual growth. Growth, progress, are the 
ideas uniformly connected in the Bible with religious life. 
The convert is directed to the sincere milk of the word, 
that he may grow thereby. Christians are exhorted to 
grow up to the stature of perfect men in Christ Jesus. 
Religion in the soul is like a seed in good soil, germinating, 
pushing itself by the force of its own internal life and ac- 
tivities, up to the expansion and strength of the full-grown 
tree. The soul setting out in the new life with this true 
idea of its nature and aim, will almost as naturally and 
necessarily grow up to the stature of a perfect man in Christ 
Jesus, a stature reaching up to the point of the full assur- 
ance of faith, as the child expands slowly but surely into 
the man. 

But alas ! we seem to have imbibed the idea, or at least the 
practical notion, that religion in the soul may flash or blaze 
for a time with great noise and flame, only after a brief in- 
16* 



310 ASSUKANCE OF FAITH. " 

terval to subside into a mere dead residuum of ashes, which 
may or may not still retain somewhere hidden a poor 
spark or two of fire. The young convert expects, instead 
of going on unto or toward perfection, to go back into de- 
clension. He is told that he will go back. If he ventures 
to hope or to say that by the grace of God he shall persevere 
and grow, and that what he is is only the beginning c. 
what he means to be, he will be regarded as very pre- 
sumptuous, and grave heads will shake at him, and pity 
him as a poor, deluded enthusiast. With such tendencies 
and such instruction, how can the mind ever attain to the 
full assurance of faith? It can only do it by getting 
down so low in torpor and self-delusiou, that it mistakes the 
peace of a hardened heart and seared conscience for the 
true peace of God. 

There are other reasons of failure, but this is the germ or 
parent of them all, and they will appear more appropriate- 
ly as I proceed to inquire, 

5. How the assurance of faith is to be attained. It is 
evident, if the preceding remark be correct, that the first 
step must be to root up most effectually and thoroughly out 
of the mind this pernicious heresy of the certainty and 
necessity of declension. Next must be firmly received by 
the mind, the duty, pleasure, and modes of Christian 
growth. But the idea must be a living idea, or received 
into a living soul, for there are ways of receiving an idea 
as different as the planting of a stone and of a seed. Sup- 
pose you take a stone and plant it, and give all possible at- 
ten to mellow and prepare the ground : will it grow ? Let 
it lie a month, or a year, but there it is, a stone, dead, move- 
less ; you can not get life nor growth out of it. Labor and 
cultivate it, it is still a dead, worthless stone. But plant a 
living seed by the side of it, and though at first it seems 



ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 311 

not very different from the stone, yet presently the life 
within works ; it will straggle outward, and will find means 
to grow, and though apparently a very tender, weak little 
thing, a mere green thread, yet it will manfully strug- 
gle with difficulties, break through the thick, hard crust 
which imprisons it, and even move or elude the heavy 
stones you may place upon it. It will grow. 

Ideas are often in our minds like stones in the ground ; 
such ideas are useless and dead, and so we might receive 
the proposition relating to Christian growth. But it should 
be received as a living idea. Christian growth should be 
to our minds as natural and true as the growth of the child 
or the growth of the tree. The convert should be convert- 
ed into that belief as a part and parcel of his conversion, 
just as he is converted to the belief and actual realization 
of repentance, and every mind should hasten to possess it in 
its living power. It is to be the essential element in every 
man's religion. 

The mind thus beginning to grow, aiming and expecting 
by the grace of God to grow, as a fundamental part of its 
Christian character, just as the abstinence from gross vice is 
an essential element of its Christian character, that mind is 
in the path which surely leads to the full assurance of faith. 
It may not, it will not, reach that glorious prize by one giant 
bound, any more than we can pass over the ocean at one 
desperate leap. But the course is thitherward, and its de- 
lightful and onward progress to that blessed goal is sure as 
the promise of God. 

If then you wish to know how to obtain the full assurance 
of faith, I reply, Begin to grow. For a few words will show 
how the beginning and the end are connected. If you 
grow to-day that is a proof of life, is it not? the surest proof 
of life, is it not? The seed which is just sending upward 



312 ASSUKANCE OF FAITH. 

the minute germ is giving evidence of life — as true evidence 
of life as the giant oak, full of strength and foliage. The 
infant whose tiny form grows, is as really a living being as 
the most robust man. If then you begin to grow, there is life. 
If you grow to-morrow, there is evidence of still existing life. 
If you continue to grow, the proof of spiritual life within, 
permanent and energetic, is complete. Thus the proof of 
this life may be full and demonstrative long before the 
growth itself is complete, and thus the full evidence of one's 
living union with God may be perfect long before the 
growth has reached the stature of the perfect man in Christ 
Jesus. 

Thus by a twofold process is the soul brought to the 
assurance of faith. The life and growth within, daily de- 
veloped, are proof that it is born of God ; and the actual 
process of growth leads to such actual conformity to the 
will of God, that the mind can exultingly exclaim with the 
Apostle: " Hereby we know that we know him, because 
we keep his commandments." The soul will be led up to 
it by the sweet and delightful path of obedience. 

I might here enter much more into detail, and point 
out how one sin and another stands between God and the 
soul, how the neglects of duty darken one's evidence, and 
create doubt and fear. Many sermons could be filled with 
such enumerations of sins and neglects. But I have pre- 
ferred the simple process of seizing on an elemental idea, 
and presenting merely that ; as more likely to put the mind 
on intelligent and energetic action. For the very effort and 
process of growth necessarily involve all that prayerful- 
ness, that struggle with sin, that diligent discharge of duty, 
which would in detail arise for consideration. This too is 
the course of the Apostle, for in that very passage in which 
he exhorts us to make our calling and election sure, he pre' 



ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 313 

fixes the direction as to the means thereto, "Add to your 
faith virtue, and to virtue knowledge, temperance, patience, 
brotherly kindness, godliness, charity ;" in other words, grow. 

Here is hoof old joy for the earnest Christian ; joy in 
the result and in the process of reaching it. In all growth 
and progress there is pleasure. One can not grow in 
knowledge without having some enjoyment, and then the 
consciousness of growth reacts on the mind, and gives to 
it new life and power to grow. Thus with the soul, 
when it has once learned the blessed art of growing, it loves 
to grow, and loves even the labor involved in growth. 

Now and then, by brief starts, probably we have all 
known what it is. Did you overcome a sin, a sin which 
tempted and tormented you for years ? Was there not a 
pleasure in standing over that prostrate enemy which you 
had dislodged from your heart ? or if he were not dead, 
was there not; joy in giving him deadly stabs, and hoping 
that after a few more battles and thrusts he would die ? After 
you have discharged some duty, was there not pleasure in 
the reflection : ' I have done that which conscience ap- 
proves, which good men approve, which God approves' ? 

What is more dreary than a dead, level swamp ? or a 
great African desert? There is no pleasure in being there. 
Tangled, poisonous weeds, hideous reptiles, mud, or scorch- 
ing sand, make the way horrid. Men shun it, or make 
their way out even to death and destruction, as Pliable 
worked his way out of the Slough of Despond and hastened 
back to the City of Destruction. But somewhat like that is 
the experience of many who call themselves Christians; as 
they lie embedded and petrified in what they call declen- 
sion and coldness, as cheerless as though lost in ice, or in a 
great sand-desert. 

What more exhilarating than for a strong man to be 



314 ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 

making progress toward a beautiful land? He passes on, 
and every step reveals new beauties, and the very exercise 
invigorates him for going on. He meets some rough preci- 
pices, but there is a lofty pleasure in grappling with diffi- 
culties and surmounting obstacles ; and as, panting it may 
be with toil, he reaches the summit of some rough but 
high eminence, though he sees other obstacles and enemies 
in his path, yet he is so high that he can see too over and 
beyond them all, into that pleasant land where his journey 
terminates. There with the telescopic eye of faith he can 
see those who have gone before him, resting in glory and 
joy from their conflicts, while over the hills rings the cheer- 
ing voice of his great Leader : ' Be of good cheer, I have 
overcome the world.' Enemies and lions are in his way 
sometimes, but clad in his heavenly armor, the spears of his 
enemies recoil blunted from his buckler, and the teeth of 
the lion are broken as they attempt to fasten on him. Ex- 
ultingly he sings : " The Lord is my light and my salva- 
tion, whom shall I fear ? the Lord is the strength of my life, 
of whom shall I be afraid ? 

Such is the experience of the Christian who is making 
progress. Who then would dwell in pestilential swamps 
and deserts when he can breathe the pure, fresh air of 
heaven, and travel under heaven's sunshine over the path 
wdiich leads to life ? 

Here we learn the true secret of the Church's healthful 
growth. A great deal of the growth of the Church is like 
the growth of a snow-ball. As the boy rolls it over the 
moist snow, it grows ; but it grows by whatever it may 
chance to pick up, earth, gravel, sticks, as well as snow. 
But so it only increases in size, the boy is equally pleased, 
and can use it just as well for his sport or his mimic bul- 
warks. Alas ! I fear there is too often similar Church- 



ASSUKANCE OF FAITH. 315 

growth, of which the Apostle speaks under the terras, 
1 wood, hay, stubble.' The Church, goaded by the stings 
of a guilty conscience for past inaction, rises into a sort of 
spasmodic and aggressive effort, and tries to bring in all 
the ungodly, like an army sent out to bring in as many 
prisoners as possible. This she does, expecting the effort 
to be temporary, and secretly resolved perhaps, when she 
is tired, to have a good, long sleep as a recompense for her 
elaborate activities. She falls asleep, and her converts 
with her. And all this because the nature, beauty, and de- 
sirableness of true growth are not understood. 

Thus does the Church actually become weaker by her 
numbers, just as an army would be less strong and less able 
to go forward in its conquests, with whole regiments of 
sick recruits. Bring enough of such recruits, and the whole 
army, instead of going out to fight, must turn nurses to 
take care of the sick. How often it is as difficult to bring 
the Church to act, as to bring sick men out of the hospital 
to fight; as if the Church must be dragged along to its duty, 
like some idol-car drawn by hands, instead of being that 
living chariot on which the Son of God rode, of which 
Milton speaks : 

" Flashing thick flames, wheel within wheel undrawn, 
Itself instinct with spirit." 

The foundation of all healthful growth in the Church must 
be laid in the growth of individual mind. Let the convert 
know that whatever may be the evidence and brightness of 
his conversion he has only made a beginning, and is hence- 
forth to grow ; that the only sure proof that he has made a 
beginning, is that he does grow. Let every member of the 
Church feel that growth is a duty, plain, imperative, and de- 
lightful as conversion and repentance. Then look at the 



316 ASSURANCE OF FAITH. 

result. A revival is a mere starting-point, from that point 
there is constant progress ; progress in overcoming sin, in 
developing all the beautiful graces of the Christian, work- 
ing out the proof of the divine origin and loveliness of 
religion, and of course preaching most effectually in favor 
of Christianity. 

Thus there will be a perpetual revival ; not a revival of 
extra means and strong excitements, but a perpetual reviv- 
al or perpetual life in religion, developing itself in constant 
growth. Then when those precious seasons come, when 
sinners are flocking to Christ, they would not be seasons of 
exhausting effort and over-tasked toil, which must react on 
the soul ; but seasons into which the mind naturally enters 
and in which the Christian and the convert would grow 
the faster, still tending upward toward the stature of per- 
fect men in Christ Jesus. 



THE PEACE OF GOD. 317 



XXII. 
THE PEACE OF GOD. 

" And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your 
hearts and minds, through Christ Jesus." — Philippians 4 : T. 

Tins is one of those exquisitely beautiful passages of 
Scripture which seem, even as one repeats them, to breathe 
their own spirit into the soul. Or if they describe a state 
of mind to which the reader's experience has not attained, 
yet still he lingers about them, as a storm-beaten and 
perishing outcast, with sad and longing desire, lingers 
around the door which opens into regions of life, plenty, and 
joy. I would gladly aid even one mind to find its way 
into that world of peace, a glimpse of which is disclosed in 
the text, as a temporary uplifting of the storm-cloud dis- 
closes the clear regions beyond, where the storm never 
reaches. 

It is plain that the word " peace," here describes a state 
of mind. It is unnecessary therefore for me to prove to 
you that it is not used with any reference to the state op- 
posite to strife between two nations or individuals. But 
the precise nature of this state of mind it is not so easy to 
describe, except so far as it has been made a matter of 
actual personal experience. 

I may say, however, that it is not a boisterous and noisy 
state of mind ; no one would dream of outcry and shout as 



318 THE PEACE OF GOD. 

'the appropriate development of peace, any more than 
thunder and whirlwind are the signs of fair weather. 
Keither is it a sluggish, indolent state of mind. At no 
time will the intellect and the will act with more life and 
vigor, than in that state of the soul called peace, just as the 
whole of the animate creation love to come out and play 
and work under a bright and peaceful sky, while they flee 
away to shelter and inaction when the storm is raging. 

The mind at peace is in a state directly opposite to that 
uneasy, agitated, troubled, restless, or dissatisfied condition, 
in which so many persons continually are ; anxious about 
the future, exasperated by ill-usage, teased by accidents, or 
boiling with excitement and passion. The mind uprears 
itself, calm and unmoved, among the incidents of life, as 
the massive rock is firm and peacefully still, while the 
trees toss in wild agony with the storm, the brook brawls 
and dashes about at its base, and the snow-flakes are driven 
hither and thither helplessly by the wind. 

But perhaps the nature of true peace will be best set 
forth by an exhibition of its grounds and causes. 

"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is 
staid on thee. 77 (Isaiah 26 : 3.) That points out the founda- 
tion of all peace, the mind staying itself on God. Let any 
one look carefully into his own mind when it is restless, 
anxious, unhappy, he will find he either forgets or very 
feebly appreciates the agency of God. As he views things, 
it appears that affairs, or his affairs, are in a bad way ; that 
evil and only evil, or little but evil, is to be the result. Such 
a mind can not rest ; feeling itself to be in the vast current 
of events, like a log, drifting, tossed, and dashed about on a 
great confused ocean of chance. What is to become of 
me ? and how are my destiny and welfare to come out of 
this confused and rolling mass, drifting backward and for- 



THE PEACE OF GOD. 819 

ward as the winds and waves drive? are questions which 
allow no peace. 

Now let the mind stay itself on God. Let it get upon a 
stand-point where it can see as realities truths like these : 
that of this confused mass of events which now seem driv- 
ing about in wild chaos, all are arranged with infinite wis- 
dom, are each working in some way toward a great result, 
and are all converging thither ; that God does all, or allows 
all, or overrules all. Then it can have peace, or rather it 
must have peace, peace the greater for the very roar and 
tumult around. For suppose yourself out on the ocean in 
the wildest sea-storm which the elements ever mingled ; 
the hurricane pursues and drives on the ship, as if intent to 
sink her; the huge waves roll themselves up, and come 
thundering down on the deck and sides like heavy artillery. 
It seems impossible for her to escape. 

Now, suppose yourself assured by some infallible and al- 
mighty power that you and all the ship's company were 
safe ; that the ship should come to land and not a hair of 
your head be harmed. You would be at peace. Nay, 
more, you might even enjoy the grandeur of the storm, and 
resting on the bulwarks, or creeping out on the bowsprit, 
you would look calmly out, admiring the ocean's rage, 
and the power of the wind, and the'beautiful action of the 
vessel as she defied and overrode the billows. Tour peace 
would be the more distinct and delightful, because of the 
uproar without. 

So the mind which stays itself on God, by these views of 
those truths relative to the agency of God, can not only 
have peace, but its peace is the most intense and delightful, 
when the ways of God seem to the mere on-looker upon 
the outside, most dark and stormy, and other men's hearts 
are failing them for fear. 



320 THE PEACE OF GOD. 

This view of the agency of God is very different from 
fatalism. Some men's views of God's control of events 
seem to be very much like the old heathenish belief in fate. 
Their idea was, that all events were fixed by fate, a sort of 
certainty or power above all influence or change ; that this 
fate had neither will nor heart, but a sort of vast foundry, 
where the whole course of events was cast, as it were, in 
iron, and therefore not to be bent. To this fate many a 
heathen gave a sullen submission, because he could not 
resist. 

Some speak of God as of fate and the course of events as 
fatalism, and exercise a sort of thing which they call sub- 
mission, a sullen, apathetic abandonment of themselves to 
what they can not prevent ; as the Indians, after fighting as 
long as possible, if hopelessly overpowered, taken prisoners, 
and bound fast, will yield and die with a great deal of 
composure, because escape and resistance are alike impossi- 
ble. But fate and God's agency in events are as different 
as the iron chain which binds and drags the slave, is differ- 
ent from that sweet but commanding parental influence 
which controls all the movements of the house ; and the 
peace we here speak of, is not the sullen apathy of hopeless 
resistance, but the sweet acquiescence of the soul in the 
rule of infinite wisdom and love. 

If then you would have peace, stay yourself on God. 
Let his omnipresent government and continual agency be 
to your mind a reality, not a dream or a speculation. 
Whatever occurs can work for your good, and with infalli- 
ble certainty will work for your good, if you use it as God 
designs it. All the wrath and evil of men, God will either 
restrain, or he will make it to praise him. The supreme 
Governor and Lord is one who will govern the universe in 



THE PEACE OF GOD. 32 i 

the best possible manner. Is not that a solid basis for 
peace ? 

2. "In every thing, by prayer and supplication, with 
thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God ; 
and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, 
shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." 

The promise is explicit, and every part of the language 
deserves to be well pondered. " In every thing, by prayer 
and supplication." What, every thing % If I break my 
arm, lose money, or feel sympathy with the suffering or 
the oppressed, am I to commit these cases unto the Lord ? 
Most assuredly, unless we are wiser than God or independ- 
ent of God. 

Yery many lose almost all the benefit of prayer, from 
transferring to the greatness of God the ideas which attach 
to human greatness. God is a Great Being, and so they 
think he will attend only to great affairs, and therefore it 
would be a sort of insult to ask him to regard our petty 
every-day concerns. So they live without God, or without 
going to him for help and guidance in their ordinary life. 
Because those whom we esteem great men, feel themselves 
above attending to what they esteem little matters; we 
think God is above them. Because a great statesman 
might feel quite too self-important to interest himself in the 
affairs of a school, or the sports or troubles of some little 
beggar-boy ; therefore God is not concerned about them, 
and must not be teased with our prayers respecting them. 

But we mistake altogether. God is so great, that our 
distinctions of affairs into great and little are entirely lost, just 
as in contemplating two men at the distance of a mile, we 
can not discern whether one is an inch taller than the other. 
< 4 The very hairs of your head are all numbered." He 
takes notice of that matter, the fall of a hair or a sparrow, 



322 THE PEACE OF GOD. 

no less than of the fall of a monarch or the concerns of an 
empire. It is no more trouble to him to do the one than 
the other ; thus emphatically showing that there is no 
event so insignificant, but it is carefully and affectionately 
noted by God. In every thing, therefore, by prayer and 
supplication, make your requests known. 

What, every thing ? Suppose I break my arm, may I 
ask God to come and heal it ? and will he do so ? If such 
a question should be asked in the spirit of cavil, perhaps 
the best reply would be : " No, he w T ill do no such thing; 
and if you break your arm, you can submit in sullen silence 
to what you can not help. That God who sends his rain on 
the evil and on the good, may probably allow certain 
natural processes to go on until the bones knit together; 
and you can make a similar boast with that of a Sabbath- 
breaker, who, after working in his garden on Sabbath days 
through the summer, tauntingly remarked to his pious 
neighbor, that his vegetables were as good as if he had 
kept the Sabbath." 

But if the question be asked in good faith, " If I break 
my arm, shall I make it a subject of prayer? and pray 
God to heal it ? and will it be of any benefit ?" I answer : 
Most assuredly, and that for many reasons : that arm was 
broken under the control and by the permission of God, 
that you might be a better man ; that there might be scope 
and opportunity for the exercise of certain Christian graces, 
which, but for some such event, you would not have had 
the opportunity to exercise. You need then to pray that 
the broken arm may result in good to you, and that you 
may be inclined to exercise the graces of which it furnishes 
the occasion, so that when it shall be well, that arm may 
be used to the glory of God. Again, the care of the arm, 
though affected by certain processes which we call natural, 



THE PEACE OF GOD. 323 

still furnishes ground for imploring the divine interference 
and blessing. Thus a surgeon is needed, one who under- 
stands the case ; his mind needs to view the case rightly, 
for many a surgeon has made mistakes to the lasting de- 
formity and pain of the sufferer. It is important that his 
mind act rightly. 

The process is affected by other causes, the state of the 
health, the state of the weather, the state of our own minds, 
the care or abuse which we may receive from others, the 
accidents, as they are termed, which prevent or delay any 
cure at all. All these events depend on still other events 
and other minds, which no one can control but God. Most 
assuredly, then, may we pray that God would give a speedy 
and prosperous cure. 

Moreover, we are to remember that prayer is not merely 
a machine or tool wherewith to work or get something in 
the way of favor or benefit. It is the intercourse of the 
human mind with the divine mind, the channel by which 
the sympathies of God are conveyed perceptibly to us ; the 
road by which we pass up into the presence of God. ~Now 
there is exquisite pleasure in. this sort of intercourse and 
sympathy, wholly independent of the mere aid they bring. 

This sympathy of our Father, God, the mind needs ; to 
know that he feels for us with fatherly kindness, and that 
there is not a pang, or tear, or wish, but he is deeply inter- 
ested in, is more precious than human sympathy. Of this 
we become delightfully sensible, when by prayer and sup- 
plication with thanksgiving, we make known our requests 
unto God. 

Thus we are in every thing to make known our requests. 
Whatever concerns us, interests God. We need not there- 
fore search and choose among the subjects which interest 
and affect us, to select those which are of importance 



324 THE PEACE OF GOD. 

enough to be laid before God ; we need enter into no meta- 
physical inquiries into the nature of faith, and search into 
the fathomless abyss of the divine purposes, to ascertain 
whether each and all our individual requests are to be in- 
fallibly granted ; but like confiding children we are to cast 
all our care on God, bringing before him our sorrows, com- 
plaints, and wishes on all subjects. 

But there is another condition laid down : " In every 
thing, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make 
your requests known." "We no doubt often approach God 
sincerely and earnestly, yet with somewhat of a discon- 
tented spirit, or with a feeling at most of simple endurance, 
and perhaps take some credit to ourselves for that. Some 
of God's dealings with us have been sharp and excruciat- 
ingly painful. We have tried to bear them, but our desire 
is simply and only to get rid of such trials. For God's 
past afflictive dispensations we feel no gratitude. Just re- 
view your prayers, and see if it is not so. When you went 
to God under the pressure of misfortune ; the loss of your 
child, the loss of property, or the loss of health ; did you 
mingle thanksgivings with your tears and supplications ? 
did you thank God that he had afflicted you ? 

Why not? for in afflicting you, God either acted un- 
kindly and arbitrarily, or wisely and benevolently. That 
he was unjust or unkind, you will not affirm; yet if he 
acted wisely and benevolently toward you, if the affliction 
was designed for your greatest good, then he ought to have 
thanksgiving; to withhold it is a practical denial of his 
goodness ; it is an expression of want of confidence ; it is as 
if we said : " Thou hast put something on me, which I will 
try to bear as well as I can, but which I feel to be hard, 
and for which I am not grateful." That mind may have a 
kind of sullen acquiescence, but it can not have peace. 



THE PEACE OF GOD. 325 

Neither can that mind expect to receive much from God, 
or have much confidence to ask favors, when past favors 
in the form of moral discipline, have not been appreciated 
and improved. 

Thanksgiving is the appropriate honor which we should 
render to God ; it is the natural development of a mind 
whose will is identified with God's will. That mind, then, 
must have peace, because its will, coincident with God's 
will, is always gratified. 

But can we be grateful for every thing ? Surely there 
are some things which happen to us, about which we can 
have no other feelings than those of regret. How can we 
be grateful for those which onlv distress and trouble us ? 

But God had some agency of some kind in those events, 
surely. They did not occur without his permission, at 
least. In that agency and permission he had reasons wise 
and good, and among those reasons, as he has told us, was 
your own personal good and holiness. Never yet did an 
event occur to you or any other human being, which was 
not calculated, designed, adapted to, fitted -for, intended 
for (for that is the meaning of the word calculated) to pro- 
mote your greatest good. If each such event did not make 
you a better and happier man, it was because your agency 
and will went against the divine will. Are not events 
then expressly designed for your good, matters of grati- 
tude ? Ought not our requests for the future to be mingled 
with thanksgivings for the past ? The promise then is ex- 
plicit: "In every thing, by prayer and supplication, with 
thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God, 
and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, 
shall Iteejp your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." 

3. We shall be led to faithful discharge of duty. This 
is stated or implied in such passages as these : " To be spi* 

17 



326 THE PEACE OF GOD. 

ritually minded is life and peace." (Rom. 8 : 6.) " Great 
peace have they who love thy law." (Psalm 119 : 165.) 
" Oh ! that thou hadst hearkened to my commandments, 
then had thy peace been as a river." (Isa. 48 : 18.) 

So long as duty is neglected, there must be consciousness 
of contrariety between one's position and the divine will ; 
that consciousness must produce uneasiness, until the con- 
science has become seared ; and then there comes on a false 
peace, a ghastly, palsied condition, as much like true peace 
as the quiet rest of a frozen man is like peaceful, healthful 
sleep. There is no question that such neglect is the true 
ground of that sort of vague uneasiness and conscious sepa- 
ration between the soul and God, so prevalent in the reli- 
gious experience of the day — a state in which the mind 
can say, " Yes, I have a hope," but is a stranger to joy and 
peace in believing. 

The intelligent, firm, persevering discharge of duty, must 
bring the mind into the sunshine of peace ; for that mind 
is, in its sphere, like God, not disturbed, uneasy, agitated, 
wretched. God, who " worketh hitherto" his own great 
work, is ever right, ever at peace. So far as we do right, 
we are God-like, and must share in his peace, a peace which 
no outward circumstances can destroy or affect. Paul 
went forth to his duty always, and though uproar and per- 
secution and hate raged and howled around him, he was 
kept in perfect peace. 

This performance of duty of course implies the ejection 
from the heart of its evil passions. Ambition and pride, 
selfishness, covetousness, envy, resentment, hatred, and 
strife are utterly incompatible with peace. Allow them 
in your heart, and you can no more have peace than your 
domestic circle would be peaceful, were serpents creeping 
around your dwelling, and tigers rushing in, with jaw and 



THE PEACE OF GOD. 327 

fang ready for slaughter. If you would have peace, eject 
these hateful passions from the soul, as you would drive 
out Satan from a soul possessed. 

Another reason why men do not taste this peace, is be- 
cause they have gone to other sources of gratification. In 
the natural world, God creates for man pure water to quench 
his thirst ; rivers and springs flow all around him for his 
health and comfort. But the poor inebriate goes to the 
muddy, poisonous, debasing fountains of stimulating drinks, 
and tries to quench his thirst there. Instead of allaying, 
his drink only creates intenser and more torturing thirst, 
and when heaven's own drink is offered to him, he turns 
away in disgust, and with singular infatuation goes again 
for a brief and exciting and riotous joy to the fountains of 
death. So alas ! while the rivers of life and peace flow 
around, many go to the giddy and false pleasures of the 
world, and try to satisfy their souls there, though the short- 
lived and feverish pleasure thence obtained, only terminates 
in weariness and satiety. But at these exciting and heated 
fountains they lose all relish for heavenly and pure joys, 
and the peace of God is tasteless and even loathsome to 
them. 

" Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is staid 
on thee, because he trusteth in thee." (Isa. 26 : 3.) " But 
glory, honor, and peace to every man that worketh good." 
(Rom. 2 : 10.) "To be spiritually minded, is life and peace" 
(Rom. 8 : 6.) 

The higher forms of religious experience and privilege 
are accessible to all. Oh ! how are the minds of men tossed 
and agitated by anxiety, fear, and trouble ; their own af- 
fairs harass them; the state and prospects of their own 
families distress them; the daily vexations and baffling 
incidents of life, irritate them ; wrongs, slights, and diV 



328 THE PEACE OF GOD. 

appointments, rankle in their hearts ! A great deal of the 
laughter which one hears, is not because men are happy, but 
because for a time they forget somewhat their unhappiness. 
Christian hope is feeble, not sufficient to give the mind 
firm hold on heaven, but just enough to supply a perad- 
venture, that one may escape from hell. Christian joy, if 
experienced at all, is not like the clear shining of the sun, 
but like a flash of lightning, gleaming momentarily through 
the blackness, and then leaving the soul to its former gloom 
and storm. m 

There is a condition of the soul far above that ; not a 
fancied, forced, unnatural state, but a sober, habitual con- 
dition. There the mind is completely above these storms 
and agitations, and looks down on them unmoved, just as 
the sun calmly and peacefully shines unmoved, though 
battles, wars, turmoil, and revolution upheave the whole 
surface of the earth. God cares for the affairs of men, but 
is calm and peaceful, though tumult, strife, and evil burst 
out like volcanoes, among the nations. So the mind can 
take a like position, and be at peace, even amid misfortune, 
change, and contention. 

That condition is not placed on some inaccessible height, 
toward which one may look with intense yet hopeless de- 
sire ; a height never to be reached, except by one who has 
eagles' wings. But it is nigh thee; the way thither is 
plain, open, and practicable. You are invited and urged 
to take up your abode in that land of sunshine and peace, 
and the Holy Spirit offers to be your guide and helper on 
the way. Why live in cold, cheerless, stormy regions, 
when the abodes of joy and peace are open to receive you? 
Do you ask again, How shall I reach there ? 

God says by his servant : " Thou wilt keep him in per- 
fect peace, whose mind is staid on thee." (Isa. 26 : 3.) 



THE PEACE OF GOD. 329 

" In every tiling, by prayer and supplication, with thanks- 
giving, let. your requests be made known unto God, and the 
peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep 
your hearts and minds, through Christ Jesus." 

A friend once said to me, wdien he was in trouble ; when 
slanderous tongues were all around him, like a circle of 
adders and venomous serpents, to ruin his character ; when 
misfortune was coming on his business, and he w r as likely 
to be involved in great outward distress, he said : " Some 
of my friends come to condole with me, and to pity me ; but 
I find that I am only induced by these earthly troubles to 
climb up higher into the regions of peace and companion- 
ship with God." So he reached upward, as the panting 
fugitive goes farther and farther up' the steep and inac- 
cessible cliffs of the mountain, when the blood-hounds are 
foaming and baying at the base. 

Is not then this peace an object of desire ? worthy of 
trial ? more precious than gold ? Certainly. Why then is 
it not attained ? I will only answer, by fixing your mind 
on one cause : want of definiteness and fixedness of aim. 
The idea might be illustrated by referring you to your own 
experience relative to conversion. You remember the 
time, no doubt, when your mind was fixed on that as a 
definite good to be attained ; as the main object to be se- 
cured. Often before, there had been vague wishes for con- 
version, which led to no action ; but now it has assumed 
the position of an object attainable and to be attained. 
You looked, thought, struggled, inquired, read, prayed, 
conversed, used means, were thoroughly in earnest, with 
that particular end in view. The object, you believe, was 
finally attained — you. thought yourself a converted man. 

But since you have passed, as you suppose, the line of 
conversion, has there been the like definiteness of aim to- 



330 THE PEACE OF GOD. 

ward any thing beyond ? You meant to stay on the right 
side of the line, with some wishes, perhaps, to be a better 
Christian, but did you fix any definite aim on something 
yet to be secured, and with that object in view, think, 
struggle, inquire, read, pray, converse, use means, tho- 
roughly in earnest? As you met, for instance, in the 
course of your perusal of the word of God, with these pro- 
mises of peace, as one of the attainable things in the pro- 
cess of sanctification, did your mind fasten on it, as it once 
did on conversion ? Did you conclude, If there be any 
thing nobler, purer, better in religion than I have ever 
experienced, I will seek after it and find it, if God will 
vouchsafe to bless my search ? 

Perhaps many would be conscious of no such state or 
purpose of mind. But without it, progress will never be 
"made toward any thing, and especially in the upward road 
toward God. This remark then suggests the answer to 
the inquiry, " How shall I find peace ?" There it is, flow- 
ing like a river, " proceeding out of the throne of God," 
and its living waters are accessible to all mankind. There 
are paths which lead to its banks ; enter those paths, follow 
them steadfastly, " and the peace which passeth all under- 
standing, shall keep your hearts and minds, through Christ 
Jesus." 

This blessed peace is for all. tc Come unto me all ye 
that labor and are heavy laden," says the Saviour, " and I 
will give you rest," (peace.) Are any here convinced of 
sin, and fearing lest the fierce anger of the Lord fall on 
you? to you the angels proclaim: "Peace on earth and 
good will to men." " Him that cometh unto me, I will in 
no wise cast out." Are any timid, disconsolate, and fear- 
ing ? " In me ye shall have peace." Are you harassed 
with temptation, and almost overcome with the evils and 



THE PEACE OF GOD. ool 

assaults of the world ? you are told : " The God of peace 
shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly." Are you grap- 
pling with sorrow and want, and is trouble howling around 
your dwelling like an enemy ? He says : " Cast all your 
care on me." " I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." 
This blessed peace is for all, and he who has once tasted, 
will never thirst for worldly pleasure, or any other form of 
earthly good. " In every thing, by prayer and supplica- 
tion, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known 
unto God. And the peace of God which passeth all under- 
standing, shall keep your hearts and minds, through Christ 
Jesus." Blessed Jesus, we will praise thee forever, for the 
Glad Tidings of Peace! 



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